Steven never forgot
The time at the fair
When he won the ring toss
But lost his dad

Have you seen my dad?
His name is Whensle
Steven told the carnies

but the carnies
so cruelly
told him
*Whensle is a girl's name

?Jihadi??

Orange sand

Raw sewage

Diesel fumes and burning flesh

Screams and the black blood boiling

This is Sadr City

It might still be mourning

Time for prayer

Imams calling

Even now
We hope for the night

In darkness, we lose our reasons not to hide

Between the sirens and the screaming

We still dream
Our dreams

Involve silence
Not the detonations

Ripping closer and closer

We dream of thick re-enforced cement

Faltering drones

IEDs that fail

Strong hands on friendly weapons

And somewhere a door that opens on home

Warm food, open arms and home.

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

Not a soul
as the snow flies
through the headlights
houses
become neon blurs
each one
allowing me to peer
into what was once
dark
the road tries to
surprise
me, it works
sometimes

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

The conjugate of idolatry,
The alchemy of flame,
The Astarte of pure harlotry-
And nomenclature'd name.

The lode-stone of sly coquetry,
The compass-stone of hearth,
The balanced stoichiometry-
Broken waters of birth.

The Vestal of impurity,
The perfidy of shame-
My blood in you runs truer red;
This craving never tames.