Primordial (a poem)

I am the tramp who wanders American backroads

I am the immigrant who seeks asylum but is denied entry

I am the fool who cries at the drug rehab

I am the fortunate son who squanders wealth

I am the bus driver who drives the Greyhound off the cliff

I am the night-storm that terrorizes the Midwest

I am the space-dust that destroys satellites

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Emerging (a poem)

traveling the dark tunnel

there’s no end up ahead

only pitch-black fear

innocent cries I hear

the virus has destroyed us

but in our weakness

we find strength

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