12 Short Poems


A rank, sweeping wind destroys everything,
guiding the only thing through dark, rancid waters


Our laughs are moist sobs, silenced grief: guffaws.
Sanctified accidents are forbidden to die.


Glowing Mothers, Austere Fathers, Decomposing Kings:
From what earthen mound are we all really from?


“Inhale the earthy fragrance of this virginal soil .
Stop digging there, that’s the savage’s grave!”


The grimed, calloused hands of the soldiers are bare.
They shipped all their rifles to their “benevolent” leaders.


A vagabond photon is projecting itself.
Craves a fresh wall to reshape its end.


They’re not long leapers, empty thrill seekers.
Like petrified turtles, they’re standing in place.


The bandage is futile, the wound is still dripping.
I’m bearing the dagger, yet YOU slashed my head.


Atrophied limbs hang from the steel slab.
Earth’s mouth is gaping, mother’s eyes are swelling.


Go ahead, scavenge through this acrid junkyard
And I’ll drum out a song on the base of this can.


The air is polluted with the caustic smell of bombs,
And the thundering applause of an entire civilization.


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