
Look into my eye
Tell me everything you see
And don’t lie to me
Look into my eye
Tell me everything you see
And don’t lie to me
we’re nothing but mammals
we walk, not crawl
through orange leaves
common in the fall
i’ve been in this house so long
i forget what it’s like out there –
hustle & bustle
breaking our backs
for snacks
& other goodies –
Continue reading “Mammals (a poem)”I don’t mind wearing a mask, do you?
It’s a symbol of safety, respect for others
our brothers + sisters living in this crazy world
boys + girls just wanting peace
something to eat
shelter from the storm
born in this age of COVID + conflict –
we rest in our bubbles, away from the troubles
I smile at you behind my mask
you see my eyes bright, hopeful
you know I love you.
(Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash)
The face of tomorrow is here today
a child with bright eyes + an imagination
working overtime –
The face of tomorrow is here to stay
in a school’s dusty hallways,
dreaming of ways to change the world.
(Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash)
Bask in nighttime blues
stars dot the sky like flecks of white paint
Mothers moan for lost children –
we want rhythm, but not the blues
the aqua blue of deep seas
the blackened blue of bruised eyes
the blues guitar of the Mississippi Delta
the crystal blue eyes of your lover –
sing the blues, young one
sing ‘em while draped in a blue dress
drowning in muddy waters.
(Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash)
I dream of criminals, being a witness to misdeed
men with dark eyes do dark things in motel rooms
tell me to keep my mouth zippered shut –
I wake with a sense of dread
storm clouds gather outside frosted windows
a woman with an umbrella screams
then runs for her life.
(Photo by Lacie Slezak on Unsplash)
Alcoholics like to talk about rock bottom –
the moment they recognized the bottle is filled with lies
the moment when they open their eyes
+ know they don’t have to drink anymore
I hit bottom in a rehab far from home after unkind words
from a social worker who told me
I was running from life – but that’s in the past
I’m still running, I know not why
the sky is falling, fireballs shooting like comets
+ I think this recovery thing is never over –
it’s a life-long process that can’t be defined
by our constant categorizing.
(Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash)
We are damnifacados: homeless, junkies,
people deem us less than human.
When you pass us on a hectic street, we’re resting with
backs to the wall asking for mercy, spare change –
you look away from our weathered faces,
we feel disgrace, in our soiled clothes, our tired eyes.
Continue reading “For the Homeless & Damnificados (a poem)”The screens go blank:
Androids dream of electric sleep,
and we’re lost in the forest,
unable to navigate.
Continue reading “Unplugged (a poem)”