No outstanding warrants on me I need to commit a crime Because no one knows me Somebody has always done worse Dad never missed knowing I could have done better Five friends at his funeral Never heard of me. I was the smoke in the censer Shook over his casket Every morning shower, I make plans To change the course of history Every evening home, I’m shattered Seeking the glue of vodka I can’t sow peace in my garden Without killing seedlings And mutating every myth of life Somewhere between skin and muscle Is the malignant cancer of a lie Somewhere between eye and sole Is the expanse of hope.
A Collection of Poetry