The clatter of your heels fillsThe polished halls of power,Your hair a helmet,Your words a spear.The gleam of your buttons,The white of…
Do not rage as Dylan Thomas did against the nightBut rage against the hunger of others.Rage against their homelessness,The wars waged…
Suddenly when brushing my teethwalking the dog,bending downto pick up trash,it hits meall over again,“He’s! … the President!”
Tiny hands hold little of substance,… tiny fingers clench such bold lies,