Reproduction or use of these poems requires the express permission of the poet. Will Color me not with your eyes for poison pancreatic tears haunt gray sky as ribbons of a Nazi flag. You call the Red Sea of my bed a smooth and scarlet holocaust. Chlorine is trapped in my hair like bubble gum, but I love its scent, for it tells me that I have moved like a chessboard bishop over pawns of strife. A refugee of writing s camp.
Cactus concentration mourns the plastic dolls of easy street.
It s liver soap that cleanses pain, rappelling cliffs of just one shoe. I ride the camel sitting up, traversing Himalayan scars. You read their crusts, feel their breeze, a soundtrack for a courage horn. This pilgrimage, a pyramid. My bricks just grateful rocks in wells.