I was once trapped in a room
with a navy wannabe
who wanted to know
how I cleaned myself
after shooting a motherfucker.
I kept quiet.
And he went away
with noise and anger.
I have been hit.
I have been bitten.
But always
I have never.
Lackland
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Tenderloin
Wednesday, September 19, 2018
For so long
I have wanted peace.
In the green hills of Washington
covered by weeping trees.
I walk amongst them
confessing my sins.
They listen
they do not forgive.
Retreat
Sunday, January 21, 2018
And then we missed retreat.
While stacking footlockers
And breaking in.
Because the babies were up
And housing wouldn’t be in until
Reveille.
Song of the diesel radio
Friday, January 12, 2018
He’s losing his teeth
one by one.
And then
all at once.
Topeka
Saturday, April 22, 2017
A woman lives in this park at the edge of town. She screams at the trees. She eats at the mission. She charges her phone at the library. She steals vodka from the liquor store. And at night she fights sleep, terrified of her dreams.
Fuel in the water, ice on the lines
Friday, January 27, 2017
Miles and miles of turbines day and night harvesting the wind tearing at the sky. All these towns now filled with ghosts but the lights must stay on until the bitter end.
Last free exit
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Bright lights, black lights. Smell the same.
Sitting here in the bright dark
putting his last twenty into a g-string
or a slot machine.
Hoping somehow he can win
a different life.
Escape velocity
Thursday, December 15, 2016
The street light blinking out a warning in Morse code
A late November storm turning Nebraska into Kosovo
Are not signs of better things to come.
The sun is warm, the wind is cold
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
I’ll sleep on the floor of a drained ocean
in the shadow of a once jagged
coastline.
And I’ll dream of you sometime
between dark and night
Abandoned churches and deserted graveyards
Monday, October 31, 2016
I recognize the way she waits
In the blazing sun
For a city bus
To take her somewhere
She doesn’t want to go.