These are poems that aim at reflecting something uniquely American in experience. Be it a place. Or a person or an experience. It had to happen somewhere to become something.
I went to buy a book of poems
Hearts, identities, wants, failures
Scattered across pages, books, shelves of books, shelves of
poetic thrashings
Awaking from the same bad dream, writing the same bad poetry
that releases your free will to subjugation and lies
dormant in the pithy pulp, poet after poet
screaming unto no one, until
“I’ll take this one”
Lenses down
Sight bubbles
Faceless forms
Busy cutting
Head vibrates
Blur tremors
Walls reflect
What I cannot see
Busy people
“Looking good”
Cell stacks
Aged clippings
Fall slowly
Swept away
Cheerful chatter
Finishing with a new me
Without Constraint there is only Chaos,
Without Chaos there can be no Creation.
In between Leaders are forged by the pressure.
Wisdom is knowing the Fire from the Anvil.
Leadership is wielding the Hammer without vanquishing the Flame.