No one remembers when
the eternity war began
though the elders will
whisper stories that the
young dismiss as fantasy
as they put on tan fatigues
assemble their carbines
and head into a land
they have never known
to meet a people
who know not
peace
Tag: verse
Irish (summer?)
Slate-grey winds beckon
an inauspicious August
marking the end of
a moody Irish summer
the starburst sunshine
long since past
more legend than memory
as rain falls in silent sheets
Two thousand and five
Moments long past
come forth, afresh
as if they arose
incorruptible, from the crypt
oblivious to the passage of time
each year since no more than
a mild nuisance
the bell rings on the dot
clear as dappled dew in the shade
8:30, first period geometry
on top of the hill, seven staircases up
the first day of the rest of my lfie
on an August day, unsure if school
means that summer weather is now
somehow improper
a continent, an ocean, a decade apart
yet no more distant than
the tips of my fingers
Uncertain spring
each droplet
falls from sky to soil
divergent paths
converge to nourish the loam
where the ever-yearning shoots
of an uncertain spring stretch out
to bid the world a hearty
hello.
Tanka: winter leaves
Once green and verdant,
winter leaves sit and decay
methodically
on mud-caked concrete, gazing
up at their former glory
Valor
Valor is
a false king
on a crimson throne.
The suburbs
The suburbs
a continually cracking
edifice to an illusion
Moonlight
My friend tells me
moonlight collects in
pools each night
yet in the morning
I find only
water •
January litigation
January
should start a GoFundMe
to hire a marketing expert,
perhaps with social media prowess
alongside a slick-haired attorney
to complain that the phrase
“the dead of winter”
is wholly inaccurate,
its slander
lowering property values.
The eraser
Borders
ink lines on paper
at the drafter’s desk
the pen as potent
as the eraser
Unspoken Politics 