At my local used-book store
There is a small poetry section
Filled with dusty old volumes
Of Whitman, Eliot, and Dickenson.
There are newer poets too,
Regardless, they are barely touched.

Each time I visit
The selection has not changed.
In fact, the spaces from where
I pulled my last purchases,
Nearly a month ago,
Are still there.

So is the hard-covered Frost
And the book of Yeats
I thought was a Pocket-Poets Collection.
Normally, I am searching for new-to-me poetry,
Variety to whet my palate with,
Finding various poets I have not read.

Yet this time I searched the shelves
For my new friend Carl Dennis
Who's poetry has been like Rooibos
On a cold spring day,
Warming my soul
And awakening my senses.

Yet near the spaces I left
Nearly a month ago from today,
Mr. Dennis cannot be found,
And I am faced with the same volumes
I faced a month ago, variety that
I normally look for, just not today.

I'm an American
And everything is clean.
My water is clean.
My streets are clean.
My school is clean.
Even my trash is clean.

Yes, I'm an American.
And everything I see is clean.
From my water to my trash,
Everything has been systematically washed and tucked away
So that nothing smells, nothing stings or poisons
So no one takes offense.

But I long for the dirt beneath my fingernails.
To smell the sweat after a hard day's work
Or the hike up a mountain, in hope of seeing
Reality from a different perspective.
Yes, it may take getting a little *****,
But I'd rather have the world a little ***** and true

Than to have everything clean.

I saw God handing me
His entire heart.  
After I took it, I saw
What could be done with it.  
I feared as I realized
I could stomp it on the ground,
And feel its flesh between my toes.  
I saw it on a shelf collecting dust.  
I feared the pain
I could cause his heart.  
So I prayed he would teach me
To treasure the priceless gift
He has given me -
His entire heart.

Becoming human does not require
Writing sad or dark poetry.
Rather, it requires rejoicing
Amongst the darkness
That can so easily
Encapsulate us all.

to be alone
so rare these days
electric faces fill the haze
these empty hours bring 'lovers lost' scars
I need a night beneath the stars
so the night owl hoots to the whispering breeze
which kisses the river and pierces the trees
before I succumb to the calling of sleep
an eerie laughter did seem to leap
from the gusting wind and the chilling night
it enters my soul and takes its bite
was mankind's howl that filled the air
that turned my solace to stark despair
a silent scream as skyward eyes fill
with the land man has *****
the mystery he has killed
my soul cries as I view it
our tracks have cut its face
this sacred Sunlit oasis
no longer frozen
in time and space

Somehow I manage to criticize 
The dust I see in your eye
While I am suffocating under
A pile of crushing beams.