born beneath stubborn hills,
near barren water
no faith but the
faith we create, right?
cities as mausoleums
poetry written in semen
find just one person in your
life with the gift of vision but
never learn her name,
or worse
learn her name, but only
when it’s too late to matter
middle-aged and lost in the
desert of upstate new york and
where the hell have you ever been but
this particular slice of nowhere?
how much of your life have you
wasted believing that
falling in love would
be the act that saves you?
look
the days have always been
beyond our control
the wolves keep circling
closer around the children, but
they wait for a signal
whichever man tells you
no one needs to die
is the one to kill first