With All That Power

Spiders on the bed

Check bare walls for light switch

Fingertips gnawed off


Conversations with one

Gun in his mouth he

Pulls the trigger


Other turning around

Tells me this

Is not right


I can’t get lucky

Never sustained–Shamed

Into the corner


Built a room

For some who I

Have had to evict


One day the only place

my loved ones will live

Is in my dreams


Banker’s sons and daughters

Bricks in ordered fashion

Exemplify the fine stone masonry


Winter’s Branches 3

White wall with silhouettes of branches moved by the wind cast with red light shadow moon’s glow. From dimmed screens come rumblings of power struggles and land-locked capitals. As Earth begins yielding to life again, against the center, new relics that have replaced old, razed and rebuilt, only names and faces change. How many have known nature of the imperial boot? Leaves shed, winter’s branches remain. The white wall in pale red light, shock to the system that requires the test of dreaming. After locating the light switch, begin with fragments, raw feeling like picking out a treasure map through scars. X marks the spot where the numbness, negation of country and of faith lies. No will to look at those who sold the farm for a few magic beans as anything but opposite of self.


The first time

I saw blood


I was frightened,

But the second,

The third,


Like a game.

Is it going to stain?


Like I swallowed

A boulder made of glass.


I told myself

If the outcome


Was bleak,

I’d do it.


I didn’t think on how.



Remember how you told me

That you floated in the air?


Pressed up against the ceiling,

You stared down at your body.


I told you

I would use the power


To break through

The seals


In place to keep people

Out. I never did know


What I would do

If admitted inside.


Walking down the

Stairs, the weight of judgment


Coiled around your ankle.