Saturday, June 6, 2009

The Dancer

O fragile child
Cast aside your mask
Dance freely, and let
Its cruel weight be lifted
So that you may kiss the stars.

August Comes II

august haze
why must you come
and bring with you
summer’s dying breath?
lazy air thick and gorged
gives way to
thin crackling whisper-wind
and a coat to
keep out the cold.

American Terrorism

Tears dot her face
Ink stains on dry parchment
"My boy," she cries, "my boy"
As if her grief may summon him
But he is of a different race now
Where no earthly sound can be heard.
She clings to his flag, a sickening parody of his death, and so many others'
Red blood
White face
Blue limbs.
Is this nation god-blessed or god-cursed?
For a war bred through greed for black gold
Turns our morals as black as the forbidden goods we crave.