The ghosts flew down
from the clouds above
the quiet Rust Belt City
Dust devils dance with
scurrying rats behind
the rusty locked doors
Alarm clocks of progress
ring but no one hears in the
boarded up neighborhoods
Abandoned naked factories
cry like hungry orphans as the
lust of the rich prevails again
While the poor and the children
whisper prayers that won’t fill
their stomachs and the jobs
float away on pitiless winds.
Hiking, wearing my brother’s hand me downs, in the Guadalupe Mountains along the Pecos River, thinking of the one that got away Dreaming of cigarette factory workers on a street in Seville…
She’s got the jiggle in her dynamo wiggle An eight ball monkey on her back trying to eat up her mind While the guitars wept Howling Wolf, Leadbelly and the Mississippi blues…
He was suppose to play sax in the band, nothing fortified him to be an infantry platoon leader Nothing prepared him for the freezing temperatures of a Korean winter He was no…
Here again they bit at him, annoyed, The trivialities working their way in, Distracting, taking any focus. Futile attempts at casual dismissal For he is unsettled by the wave after wave, The…