forever
moving
as if owned
by invisible wires
dragged
in every
di-rec-tion
the
helpless
morning
rush
millions of ants
so insignificant and little
but driven
an american disposition
for ambition
all
marching
marching
marching
as one
to an invisible hell
This poem was previously published in the chapbook 'The Streetlights are Beckoning Nirvana' (Analog Submission Press)
cloudburst symphonies fall like soft rain, receding into submission, closed curtain secrecy. a black fly s t r e t c h e s a wing a wing. shadows betray the unseen, I stagger towards the light
writing is an unburdening of the soul. a total release. a rebellion against control. often a painful process. an act that brings with it fear and the unknown. an explosion. delayed gratification. a my
there comes a time when we have to face ourselves. to face our demons. confront our mortality. in a cage. under the lights. or on a stage. at knifepoint. we are tested. we will be tested. when there