Poems

Fleeing in Anger Fleeing in anger and dismay, into the void I charge,uttering a fervent prayer, “Release me, set me large.”Through the forest I tear, face streaked with tears,amongst shadows my fears declare, spoken in darkened jeers.

First Conquest The first one was a back-room deal in a city I had just found,A handshake and a paper and a twenty-dollar sound,It was not large by anyone’s accounting of the scale,But the first conquest is the one that sets the measurefor the tale. I walked out of that building with a different kind

Eyes Like a Stormy Sea Eyes like a stormy sea, rage and roll, ferocity,heart pounds, electric pulse, terror taking hold.Waves crash in the night, darkness hides the fright,tides of fear, creeping dread, lurking in bed. Scream in the silence, see the swirling violence,storm inside the soul, breaking all control.Mirror shows reflection, distortion of connection,thunder in

Familiar Stranger I have known his face for thirty years, we grew up on one block,we rode the same school bus, attended the same clockof morning, shared the same American dull stretch of years,and now I look at him and feel the chill that sears. I know every fact that maps to who he is,

Danger Made Attractive Somewhere in the wiring danger wears a certain look,the thing that should repel me is the thing that has me hooked.She is the kind of woman who has burned a dozen down,and here I am presenting myself for the next round. Danger made attractive is a hell of a design,the worst ideas

Easy Life Easy Face I watched it play out over twenty good yearsHow the beautiful boy moved without the same fearsThat the rest of us carried through every damn roomHe walked in like sunlight I walked in like gloomAdjacent to sunlight if you squint right and trueEasy life easy face I’m still carrying through Easy

Conquest Book Twelve Begins Twelve books in and the campaign has not softened at the edges,twelve books in and I have sharpened every one of my knowledges,twelve books of moving forward through the sectors that resisted,twelve books of not retreating from the ground that I insisted. Conquest book twelve begins the way the others always

Crimson Rage The rage I carry has a color at its operational center,the kind of color that was there before the triggerand the entry.I’ve been managing the crimson since the year of the first accounting,and the crimson rage has been the engine that keeps mounting. It isn’t directionless— that’s the distinction I’ve been making,the crimson

Cold Rage Is Patient The hot kind is the one that everybody sees,the one that breaks the plates,the one that clears the roomand makes the witnesses and escalatesinto something that gets managed,gets addressed, gets talked about for weeks.The hot kind has a reputation and a shelf life and it peaksand then it’s done, and there’s

Concrete Rebellion Graffiti veins pulse through the kingdom of cement,sidewalk prophets preach a doctrine never bent.Traffic-cone trumpets sound an asphalt psalm,concrete rebellion, chaos calm. Concrete rebellion–break that brittle mold,cracks become the cursive where the future’s told.City beats in riot time, rumbling from below,concrete rebellion–watch foundations blow. Pigeons act as couriers, rooftop code in flight,Morse-code hammering