They are dying in our pointed cameras
Culled like vermin; dressed in plastic shrouds.
Droves of dead among more dead's hammered howls.

And cynical politics is now a clamor of
Writhing noise masking bombs that pound.
They are dying. In our pointed cameras.

And putrid politicians bare the hammer of
Genocide, fixing nothing, the bodies mound
Droves of dead, among more dead's hammered howls.

A broken cry is stunted by spilling bowels
Blasted into broken bits never found.
They are dying in our pointed cameras.

We are blinded; they are executed like savages
And we pretend the oppressor has not bound
Droves of dead among more dead's hammered howls.

I have a reason
to love
you love me
to lose yourself.

Sage Ridge School
King Lear's Fool
          Reno!

big blue sky
   black smoke
         driving

I tried
I’m so sorry
But I couldn’t do it
I failed
I couldn’t keep my promise
And that’s not fair to you
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m so ******* sorry

I search for you
in the stars,
in the shimmer between planets,
in the way moonlight
folds itself across empty sheets
like a question that never needed an answer.

I lie awake at night,
staring at the sky,
as if the constellations
might shape the contours
of a presence I once knew,
as if the hush between stars
could hold a trace of your breath.

I search in the shadows
With reverence
behind each heartbeat,
each flicker of thought,
that still hums through the bones.

You're in the pulse
of every breath,
the sacred stillness
between inhale and exhale,
a quiet echo
threading itself
through the silence.

But the absence
is its own kind of presence
a hollow that holds,
a sky that listens,
and still,
I search,
as if finding you
would not complete me,
but remind me
of who I’ve always been.

And I keep searching,
in the soft spaces
of breath and shadow,
not out of need,
but because something in the stars
still speaks in your language.

Reno snow
  my sons
        Yo!