Sunday Poems

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[ stop the crazy ]

stop the crazy
that’s all I want
when I think that
I am thinking
but I’m wrong
that’s all I want
but it’s too real
to convince myself
so I just think
and think
and it is hard
to go on like this
again
and again
but I must

[ Syrian homes piled among bodies ]

Syrian homes piled among bodies
destroyed from above and afar
a landscape painted in hues of tan
and blood on a canvas torn and soiled
left in heaps by the tourist’s bombs
poking their forces in other nations

here sovereignty’s meaning they
translate differently than at homes
they dwell in standing upright devoid
of the damage, guts, black, and red dealt
out swift in national interests unyielding
terrorism of the highest order, ordered

Snow Plowing the Classes

the plows move slowly
down this street
manicuring each spot
with a spit polish
stopping at houses
to greet the elites
eating hors d’oeuvres
and sipping
fine wines

just one town over
from the windows
of homes watching
parked cars
plowed in and covered
in the blink
of a middle class eye
two more hours
of shoveling appears

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