The projects are there…
everything is drenched in poverty.
Lady in black,
how do I know you?
Unless I take another wrong turn,
I will never find you again.
I’m lost down the longer path.
My words will wither in your wrath…
unmarked vehicles tailing the human face-
in metal chalk outlines.
Keep up the pace,
or get left behind,
What I think about the most-
victims of landmines.
Hold me close to your unapologetic ghost.
The proverbial, lustrous cutlery
smacks me when I think or create.
Amber waves infected by chemical rain,
please deprive me of America.
We got drunk with homeless people
in tents outside city hall
in the frigid air last fall.
The movement fell apart,
and the city would rather tear up the pavement
around the half-abandoned administrative center
for an indefinite amount of time
than have the wrong people transparently living
out there in the middle of the city
for everyone to see.
At least now the vagrants and troublemakers are scattered
about so no one can pay attention once again.
Someone got shot there during fourth of July;
thousands of people were herded through the gates of hell,
“to celebrate fascism” as a nice old man commented to me
as I walked by, I didn’t know what to respond.
We left as soon as we got there because it was beyond suffocating.
There is a lack of understanding in everyone, and it is exhausting not being naive.
Philadelphia will remain static on the outside.
the distance between here and now is filtered through the sunlight in your eyes
where i can’t tell what is being looked at but i hope it is that one particular detail
saturn’s rings are melting away, dripping out of the sky and forming new visions
my emotions waver, but not as much as yours, you need to sleep, but you can’t
the aches are starting to diminish and those recurring thoughts are erupting now
hatred for that never-ending feeling is as much as the fear for the finishing
being redundant is a common occurrence for us, why should anything be recorded?
Those tiny things around
that don’t get noticed much.
that does not matter.
There is individuality in inanimate objects.