I listened to stories of a
mausoleum for the fallen
and a scatterplot for those that live
on knife-edge shadow lines of
concrete, devoid of birdsong
in the lee of architecture
While every day the same and the same
played the drumbeat of scattered hopes
Each night the rumble through the earth
of a mile-long thread of rust and steel
dragging the nightly harvest of industry
into the arterial heart of the city
beneath this bellows cage that draws
the mother’s breath from air
But really I was here all along,
taking root in grounding earth –
reaching down to rock…
Tracksuit sacked another beat.
Dragging chain link fence to zip-line eye.
Fasten décolletage and batten down the hatches.
Roflol with eight-ball eyes to smooth the pillow of the world.
Your hysteria is all the rage.
Forgetting bloodstains in the dirt.
Sweepstake switchblades declaim your sacred right.
Under house arrest in radius of your atomic bliss.
All light confined to blackout after dark.
Repeat: This screen is now your window.
To watch the world diminish and pass on to the other side.
To populate the galaxy with strip-mine asteroids.
As the earth begins to turn, the cobblestones appreciate.
Artwork that defies the…
Nighttime in the liminal dark
of moonlight music and lovers
embrace dreaming songs
that trace lines of inner
country still emerging
Even as the dreaming
of my own ancestors
falls as fire and ash
of nightmare walking
on mother country
Still my people live
in dreams of such
poverty and hunger
that the riches choke
the land and waters
As mountain faces stand
before the sentinel skies
through the firmament
of generations past and emerging
All of us somehow sharing in
this fleeting moment of wonder
that such a thing as this might exist
and that beings such as us
Father, poet, musician, certified coach, lover of all things good, true and beautiful. You'll often find me trying to love the rest of it as well.