Daily Archives: June 23, 2016

Broken Edge

I like to talk about
my broken edge the way
every regretful mouth
still likes to form
rotten words
it once said with glee;

I like to talk about
the old days as if I was
some pioneer fighting off
cholera when in fact
I sniffled far more
than almost died;

I like to nod my head
to songs I don’t remember well
and pretend to anyone watching
that every note is a past epiphany
although I was not present
the first time they were sanctified;

I like to claim what I never was
but only for public consumption;
I like to play the nostalgia game
but only when it wins me what
I didn’t have back when; I like
my broken edge the most, 

though you can’t break an edge
that was never there.


Walls Of Bones And Blood

Until you are by law under suspicion
for your face, do not speak too proudly
of the need to obey any other law.

Until you are by law under threat
of becoming slave or slain for walking
your path your way, do not claim

that if you are doing nothing wrong,
you have nothing to worry about. This 
is not a tale of unlawful doing, but one of 

unlawful being; unless you have lived
where you are always at war, or where war
always simmers just under boiling, do not speak

so confidently of the need for restraint,
do not sternly scold broken windows
in a landscape where everyone’s a casualty

by definition. If you live where that
is not the case, you likely live 
in a fortress made of bones cemented with blood

and unless you can see your own bones and blood
in those walls, don’t scorn those who are sick  
of seeing their entire past, present, and future there,

and who then attempt to tear it all down.