spring clip and t-pin

Democracy is an invitation to struggle

Benny said

after the looting.
Look, I was wrong.

We can’t win. This isn’t our

defining moment. It’s not even a decent

bong party.
Only the hungry

take to the streets

and ours is a 

fast food fix.
Armies march in time.

They don’t stumble into selfies

to tweet. Armies march in time.

Shoulders back. Eyes straight ahead
en masse. Bound by a common

oppression. Spring clipped and t-pinned

to its pretty flag. The anthem of the fuck machine

tuned to their hearts.



I cannot describethis moment  finally free

of definition


in this spare hour of

examination  I have

lost my mindfulness


blue sky greying to

grace   gratitude  I never

not believe in you


the graceless boot of

warring men coil taut shiny

hard president’s men  


a small regatta 

of thoughts keep me from the shore

saints fall from the sky 


you unlock my true

mission  remove the splinter

from my eye  pardon


only dust and lost

birds fly over the mountain

I climb without love


there are faint moments
few and far between  when you

see the open path


nocturnes surround her

liquid luminescence  her

lips of love still wet


welcome him to the 

open sky  the tower of

his song   ascending