Sunday, May 22, 2022

 the air in my lungs a storm

*Published by Cold Moon Journal on 5/17/22

Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Lazarus

i grew up on
the wrong side of radiation
a place where trains derailed
and the sky hailed Satan

you hung the paddle like a cross
and the cross became a bullet

they say chemicals were dumped
into the water the soil the air
but my blood was poisoned long before
i took my first step on this earth

mother once praised you
by saying you punched
her pregnant belly only once

praise God

apparently he was there somewhere
atomically in the crack of the carpet
when you
molested me

when i was 14 i thought it was odd
how i remembered almost nothing prior
to the age of 10

but i remember my sister almost dying
at the age of two
and that cancer was an open secret // grave
in our town

when we left
you took me and my sister back
one last hurrah in the old house

why we were naked i don't know
but i do know
you eventually destroyed those photo negatives

you weren't a pedophile
of course
and The Mound didn't kill
the residents of Miamisburg, Ohio

*Published by Poetry Super Highway (Poet of the Week: May 16 - 22, 2022)

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

 crow...
one of us
knows freedom

*Published by Cold Moon Journal on 5/10/22

Wednesday, May 4, 2022

 canvas...
i will not be
gentle with you

*Published in The Haiku Foundation’s Haiku Dialogue on 5/4/22