March 2019
| its down | |
| poplars | |
| in black and white | |
| barcode | |
| natural commodification |
|
| the sun |
my presence
left
where I penned it
wolf hour after hour after hour
after the tiger's stripes
I read the braille of raindrops
atop my haiku
death toll mounted to the edge of spit
birthday song . . .
the sound of absence
all lit up
death rattles through the mosque
suburban spring
the wilderness within me
will rise again