Poetry

"...I was back in Gaza..."

"Your television lies to you..."

"...faces warmed five degrees by sunshine..."

"...on the scale of competitive stink..."

"...the wind is only a whisper in my ear..."

"Soil trickles through fingertips..."

Who is going to stop this madness?

"...I say it so carefully..."

"...it plays hide-and-seek..."

"...mesmerizing us with Afro-Cuban songs..."

"...I'm left a dancer who can't hear the music..."

"...The sea, insatiable, has known many like her..."

"...the artist’s tears are dammed for all he understands..."

"This city walks on barefoot..."

Strains. Pains. Cheerless.

"...That insidious virus hasn’t gone anywhere..."

"My sister’s a chair..."

"...that must have been another me..."

"...gravestones are metaphysical name tags..."

"This is a letter to the man who lashed out..."

"Sad, like, red, is a conveniencism..."

"You asked me to write a poem..."

"...Are we not emotive and spiritual creatures?..."

"... the brutal cold takes his breath away..."

Remembering a good season...

"...stronger as we found our voices..."

"...here’s scree too heavy, mountain clad..."

"...Society rains hate on men who cry..."

"...Slow traffic for miles and miles..."

"...A million fragments scatter..."