I imagine Trump Sitting alone in his room. Trying to log in To his suspended Twitter account, asking “why Do bad things happen To good
Category: poetry
Gates of Life
Grief and heartache wracks Your chest, deepest tensions are Loosed, new light enters.
Four Horsemen: Pennsylvania Ave.
Sixteen hooves clatteredToward Pennsylvania Ave.,Sixteen hundred. Pale Rider approached theGolden king of fire, whoBowed his head and knelt. Weeping and gnashingHis teeth, he cried “at
This Way To a Dusty Death
From Shakespeare’s Macbeth: Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays
Life’s Work
I want there to be A new numbering of the Years, so that it says, “Before me,” “after me.” I want to have changed the
Vivid
Life is calling. I Hear it out there, beautiful And free. Resurgent.
