Was

there was
there was
a time you felt for me
and my world
swooned for you

now there is
now there is
there’s nothing
left here
but the
emptiness
of our room

between
the island
that is you

and between
the island
that is me

there is
a gulf of emptiness
and there is
nothing we can do

i hate
i hate
this thing
we’ve become

cast your net far
cast your net wide
and you’ll never find
a love like mine

that is what
that is what
what i want to believe
and for you
to believe, too

will you come
will you forget
about the past 9 years
is there nothing
left to do

oh why
why can’t you see
what you mean to me

oh why
why can’t you feel
this love i have for you

why
why
why am i destitute?

no more fear
no more fear
no more fear have i
no longer do i cry

i let go
i let go
let you do
what you want to
you let go, too,
and i wait for you

wait for you
wait for you
that is all i can do
that is all,
or leave you

run in cirlces
run in circles
always coming back

but with a little less
than when you left

Cincinbabwe

cincinnati severs
ties with its sister
miles away,
forlorn harare in zimbabwe

in the words of rasta marley
divide and rule only tears apart
in the words of emecheta
a hungry man has an angry heart
in the words of mugatu
what is cincinnati?

what is cincinnati?

only seven years sooner
cincinnati was war-torn,
another sister city all forlorn,
with one too many roaches
crawling across the shoes
of owensby, thomas and tyehimba

in the words of rasta marley
in every man there’s a beating heart
in the words of angela leisure
a life is not a misdemeanor
in the words of king
a riot is the language of the unheard

not enough city ears were listening
not enough countrymen’s ears are listening
not enough world’s ears are listening

Joseph Dwyer is Dead

picture you
in a picture
running with ali satter
towards your ptsd

only 25 at the time,
i was launched into the spotlight
and you onto front pages
of papers all over the world

joseph dwyer is dead,
the man you made famous,
is all the email said.
memories flood my head:

you, 27,
with spindly child
in your arms,
fleeing for refuge in mishkab

i wonder if you saw
those flame-consumed palms
over the euphrates
as we ran for cover
while bombs streaked overhead
with my camera flashing
at every booming explosion?

months later, i sat proudly
with pepsis, m&ms and my photo
making merry with the sattars
along the euphrates

four years ago
i exchanged iraqi deserts
for miami’s college halls,
never able to hide from my past

while i struggled
with contract law,
you struggled
with fitting back into society

fleeing voices, gagging
gas and ghosts
from the invasion,
never to find refuge

we both tried to shield
ourselves that march day:
you with battle armor,
me with a camera lens

only to find
three lives intersect
in 1/250th of a second
forever memorialized for saving a life.

had i known
you’d struggle to save your own
would i have pulled my own trigger?

Antietam Pantoum

while i grow older, they grow more somber
becoming more and more fainthearted
with years growing longer and longer
with nightly visits from the departed

becoming more and more fainthearted,
roaming, roaming this burial ground
with daily visits from the departed
listening, listening for the death toll’s resound

roaming, roaming this burial ground
across the rolling darkening field,
listening, listening for the death toll’s resound,
while the battle emerges from farms untilled

across the rolling darkening field
dusk comes and causes me to shiver
while the battle emerges from farmland untilled
blowing, blowing, the cold air moves my soul off center

night settles and causes me to shiver
along the wall are memories
staring, staring she moves my soul off center
as her doleful eyes glide down the hall with me

along the wall are memories
watching, watching as if she knows my woe
as her doleful eyes glide down the hall with me
looking, looking as if she sees inside my soul

watching, watching as if she knows my woe,
the whip-poor-will cries out for her mate
sounds as if she can hear my soul
longing, longing to escape my fate!

the whip-poor-will cries out to her mate
i wish for her to not call for me
longing, longing to escape my fate
wanting, wanting only to be free

i wish for her to note call for me
the soldiers gather in their silent stand
wanting, wanting only to be free
gathering upon this decaying land

soldiers gather in their silent stand
as she coldly begins to appear
refusing to fall upon this decaying land
trembling, trembling each night with fear

nightly, nightly they all appear
gasping, gasping for breath as the smoke stings
trembling, trembling each night with fear
when canons boom loudly in my dreams!

gasping, gasping for breath as the smoke stings
aching, aching as if my body were torn
waking, waking from these dreams
to find the chill of the early morn

aching, aching as if my body were torn
shovel in tow, i exit my door
finding only the chill of morn,
today i shall bury a hundred more

shovel in tow, i exit my door
wandering until i trip upon a corpse:
today i shall bury a hundred more
my life is filled with this coward’s remorse

wandering, wandering among many a corpse
doomed, doomed to live my life alone
my life is filled with a coward’s remorse
damned to live among ghosts and bones

doomed, doomed to live my life alone
with the years growing longer and longer
damned to live among ghosts and bones:
while i grow older, they grow more somber

Sestina of the Ohio

from my window
i can see the river
and the little ships
moving upon the floating ice
as if dredging up the secrets
that might lay below

the hour hand falls below
while frost gathers over my window
as the wind howls over the river
causing eddies to whip those dark ships
who slide across the freezing ice,
congealing a pass for my secrets

if found, all will know my secrets,
those careful things i’ve placed below
my overlooking third floor window,
happily accepted by the gluttonous river
i do not retire until i see each ship
pass, my freedom and theirs owed to the winter ice

but no great traitor is there than ice
when in spring the thaw uncovers secrets
and causes them to well up from below
and perhaps float past my farmhouse window
hurried along by the flow of the river
much like a south paddling, tall-stacked ship

no need for dredging ships
once the spring removes the ice
like may clover, pop up will my failed secrets
no matter how many fishes have nibbled below
one can see plain as if looking out my window
the alibi has been my river

mighty ohio, more than a mere river
who totes along the mightiest of ships
you are no less great than the bearing with her ice
for those you let pass in search of freedom and hiding secrets,
those countless souls trapped off to the side and below,
who cry up to my bedroom window

they look up at my candle-lit window from down below
i aid and watch my secrets stealthily cross the river
like steadfast ice-cutting ships

First Born

my first born is dead and gone to hell
she never really had a prayer
they found her deep within the well

from the tower i hear the bell
and know she’s now resting there
my first born is dead and gone to hell

i do not feel sad nor want to yell
nor have i one drop of despair
they found her deep within the well

relief is the only emotion to swell
as the sound of the choir feels the air
my first born is dead and gone to hell

my wife was trapped under her sad spell
for she knew of the wicked affair
they found her deep within the well

the priest, he knows but shall never tell
but i doubt he should even care
my first born is dead and gone to hell
they found her deep within the well

Icarus

i ran briefly
like the streets belonged to me
as i flapped and touched off
ever so hesitantly
with all the second guessing, yet
managing just enough confidence
to take off gleaming and glistening
despite the grime, crime and city below
i rose above the mob
and soared high above them all

sad to admit
i took off like
thunder
rolled under
my feet
as they pounded down
along the street
up from the harbor
to the lake and the hills
just east
of the university,
high above the city

and all i take with me
is that if i can make it here
i can make it anywhere

i use to act like i ruled,
not my world,
but my life at hand
and now things stand
so peculiar
revolutionary waves wane
who would want to be king?
reminded only of my commoness
even from so high

but i can happily sigh
that i once touched the sky
and made it there
and so i know i can make it
anywhere

who you are
and what you are worth
is not measured by wealth,
though i once had more than enough,
when i soared to those charming heights

and now as i glide
i feel the pain in my stride
and long of dreams
of having those things below

i realize only that my wings are wax
my castle built upon fragile sand
and for all the reasons i can’t explain
find that holding back and falling down
has helped me only to gain
that thing
that matters most
in falling i am found

in the humility of my strife
bells ring for my life
i feel an earnest pain
as i tumble from the heights
with only humbleness holding me tight
falling out of sight
the wax melts
my feet hit the ground
with a pound
of thunder
as if i had landed on my pride

Nasty

yo, you is a nasty bitch
a fucking glitch
that sets off the negative switch
that gets me going and makes me twitch
and shoots out your smart-ass vibe
and fucking lies
but your power is about to be denied
i can’t be discrete
when i’m about to hit delete
and get you the fuck out of my face
and out of my space
because when you start, your energy don’t stop
that’s the problem that i got
but i don’t want to be stuck with your nasty ass
and all that bullshit you try to pass
you just keep on keepin up this crazy shit
and you’ll see how you’re gonna get it
cause one day you’re bound to get served
i hope i see it when life throws that curve
you nasty, crazy fucked up bitch
i love you, chick,
even though i’m over you and it

 

sh*t

you shit in a stew
and tell him it’s food
a jamaican mama
tells a roadside vendor
to eat shit, too
cause the price of food is rising
and there ain’t no denying
soon we’ll all be eating shit
even if we think we’re the shit

an american grandma says “sheista”
when the paring knife slips
as the word glides from her lips
she blushes blood red and feels like shit
taught by the germans 
at a railroad pow camp
while she watched over it
“they used to talk dirty,
and flirt,
and tug at my skirt,”
she says, no longer blushing,
“and that’s no shit!”

in toulon, an ex-patriate spaniard
says merde as she pulls up to the pump
her french children are full of dismay
“you say nothing but curses in company,
merde, merd, merde, toujours merde,” they say
she scowls
“hardly a joke with talk of a turd
when the price of gas is so fucking absurd!”

blame it on india, brazil and china
no sense on blaming it on neither
when they just started out behind ya
cause we’re all in this ish together
we think we’ve came so far
but in the immortal words of tina turner,
“you can shovel shit can’t you?”
and that’s what you better learn to do
it starts with not being able to start the car
cause running on shit
and talking about shit
and not doing shit
won’t get you too far!

Birth of a “Poem”

you tear from me eagerly
like a child breaking lose to walk free,
or some precisely hurled circus knife
and i struggle with the strife

of protecting and molding you from the things that be,
like critics, consternation and literary theory

but born already, i can only try
to take your independence in stride
because you are eager to reach the page
as if your mother were a muse
and your father a sage

but no, i am only a cage
against whose bars you incessently rage
to be free and to fly onto the stage

but this time i will neither nurture nor care
what you look like when i see you there
and watch the others disect your every word
the cage door is agape, and gone is the bird.