sucking in breath

sunburnt man

wretched and weary

beneath light and rain,

thunder smelled of goatskin

and musky aftershave,

steps taken like a drunk

falling on his own

sky crossed with jets

over the park

those travelling to another

countries sun to relax,

as slowly it ceased

shimmering haze

brought glare to eyes

worn with failing status

once he was among the rest

spewing from subway to curb

urgent and despairing

eager to get home,

that place with a yard

spill of ivy

trimmed lawn,

but that page had turned

fortune walked away like

everyone else,

yet his eyes sparkled

renewed vigor in his step,

he saw the torture he once


now he belonged to no one

bank, employer, wife

even country,

he was an independent state



illustration 9

ants loud enough

close to his head,

reprieve of summer cool

as he lay under his cart

pushed for close to a mile

finding geography

awkward to place

despite being his city once,

his mind a squoze larvae

thoughts brief as a snakes hiss,

irritable tongue of weeds,

lying still

close to impossible,

underpass old concrete walls

tagged by youth

more used to shooting than talking

overhead cars heat and horses,

smells nasal reverberations

he would feel quieter

if at the bottom of a lake

where on it’s silted bed

with fishes as companions

devouring algae from his closed  eyes,

heat would be gone

and his mind would make sense,

the moon did not bring night rain,

eventually he stood

rocking on heels

than began to walk

this time he would find the start

of his journey

I Am An Original Man

misshapen methods

of a deeper part,

a thought from word


leaves the silence of the mind,

in childhood you vowed to stand


become a separate species by behaviour,

absorbing light upon the tongue,

bringing radiance to your words,

as you became older

and voice shifts .

tonal extractions became thunder,

leading not following,

joined to your own convictions

no excuses,

you perpetrate

what convinces you as right,

becoming oblivious

to calls and rejections,

these methods are in play,

under the umbrella of a party,

you have made your stand,

and all before become dust


Founder Keeper

piss not the only river to the sea,

new land, new era

drunk last night

in a sobering cool

looked at squared ships

Nina and Pinta,

Good Lord they had made it,

flesh transient to come

indigenous others to fall,

acquisition the aim,

land on the wheel of kings emotion,

sometimes wanted or cast off,

this was a prize,

a prize of democracies future

to inherit,

people would come

to this social bazaar

intermingle and weave

and live on the brandy breath

of a drunken sailor,

harmony song

an arc of words,

turmoil and transition

yet resolute and steadfast,

from a boat

to population sprawl

water to plaza

strip malls and floral suburban


tenacious hearts with fluttering


from the moistened Genoese boot

shaking of an idle drip,

comes paradise

in it’s most ambiguous form.


Turn The Soil

freedom is a ferment

of rhetoric rooted in

clotted earth,

turned by hand

and senate approval,

words grow

linguistic tangles of

law and statement,

a nation addressed,

trembling shoots

recover nutrition lost

leaves can only mottle

stagnant moments

of federal reserve

cacophony of calls

for it to be poured

to moisten

soak the soil

many hands upon the


few have strength,

resonant hearts

beat out

like drums across the


voters in a patient wanting

after TV debate,

they had knowledge

a profound affect

on the effect of the nation,

red earth

blue sky

white stars,

imagine what you see

virtuous cloth

cannot hide

hunger and strife,

passed boarded fronts

and foreclosure sign,

to take a line

and show with mark

how life should be,

then wait

pollsters want your souls

but the nation needs your


give it life and think,

do not leave it to the

history of memory,

from fertile earth

comes life.

Bring Back the Then and Now

dollar bills ground fine

blowing grit into my eyes,

watering not out of discomfort

but sorrow,

as the green has paled

transparent and valueless,

existing as a memory

on magnetic strips,

worn by careless touch,

a presidents hand

is not divine enough to revive,

taxing shocks ripple the heart,

but now eyeing the wilderness

of vacant strip malls

and realtor bunted houses,

the burden heavier than sorrow

breaks the wage mule back,

sat roadside aimless

flickers of eyes do not register,

tomorrow comes,

and another one,

every journey has an end

yet this one i cannot see

just yet