a memorial

a three-legged butterfly alights on my jumper in the sun-drenched graveyard of three thousand souls.

A Museum

Their ghosts press in on me, still screaming demanding they be heard. They press with the weight of 1362 feet of steel. They refuse to be ignored I must know their weight and carry it though I know none of them they are not my kinsmen. Yet I strain to listen and bear their weight I …

Moment Lab

All these words come toward me through clasped hands and eager eyes tightly shut. I am water, a river, flowing fast, steady, confident, light, heavy forward and large, blue a field sun but without that sunset sunlight. Hands touch softly I'm arrested pinned and see-through hesitant now open, an energy, a furrowed brow a cautious …

Sunday

A saxophone plays in Central Park, New York City. A warm breeze blows like an armistice over boulders and across wild grass, carrying birdsong - one among myriad languages that pop and fizz around street vendors beneath their umbrellas. A mustard and ketchup smile spreads over my face. Everyone is themselves, And I am me, And …

US08

next to God of course America i am surprised as you were constantly devouring the secret of life sdrawkcab that you mistook it for faith upon which you built a machine with which to create Belief. And still, when your pillars of stability and osowonderous importance were struck down you did not falter to wage …