who is the stranger with the anger in her bones,
who finds hiding places in oversized sleeves
and tension in the clenching of her jaw.

chipped teeth cannot cause the damage they seek;
like chipping bark off of the still, silent trees
and walking away feeling easy and free.

but those who are beloved are blameless.
discarded gum pulses on the pavement,
drying there long past tasteless.

but anger only rots under your skin
once exposed flesh adopts shame once again.

gasoline smoke
would not be a joke
in a world the size of thine
not sugar water or injustice's slaughter
would ease the breadth of time
neither father's heart nor empathy's art
could make these two ends meet
no cloudless day or means of pay
could cause fear to retreat
no, nothing - not quite anything
could alone fight the absence
gasoline smoke
would not be a joke
in a world as small as silence.

One Hand
an obstruction of sky’s face
another obstacle for wind’s arms-

what do these arms require?
and where does exhaustion strike
when theft becomes a labor of love?

can its effect be greater than She?
than That Hand’s words?
what She says, how She says it,
how His Eyes accept, reject it-
ignore it.

His Eyes watch Her Hands drop the bucket as
fingers feel the hole beneath its contents leaking
a trail of things She fails to trust. a
trail that falls like rain into open mouths which
all together speak
"what's the difference of today,
and How Can I be worth it?"

What's to be said of two raindrops who,
in a gust of wind, form together as one-
only to be torn apart by an impending smash on new earth?
To ride the concrete that rejects them
concentrated by gravity
stomped upon by careless feet
who carry heads with no notion of the anguish they cause.
What's to be said of a world faced by an impending smash?
crumbling under each shattered drop,
countless partings of the earth
under each pounding foot,
the roots of earthling ignorance.
A world that's forced to carry endless heads
with no notion of the anguish they cause.