Across the street from the Mohawk
red and green, those neon lights
the movies that they showed there
brought pleasure to my nights

Four blocks down the street
my grade school to fifth grade
Mrs. Moore my teacher
and the reader that she made

East Main Street days are gone
they live only in memories
The apartment is demolished
there's nothing left to see

But dreams of joyful days
Mom and us older three
playing, dancing, singing songs
the house filled up with glee

There is nothing left of life
that death cannot resolve,
times velocity spins on stolen lips
and minute pieces of adamantine
pierce the edge of soles
worn with pain

Right here,
Where night and dawn merge
the membrane strains
cleaving, as shade blackens blue
for mere milli seconds

Standing in the hollows of night
still, watching forever shimmering
in the shadowed corner of my eye,
always a curious creature
I swallow bricks and mortar
tasting truth

Power is like a bird in flight,
Soaring above, with eagles sight.

Searching for the weak and easy prey,
Those through policies they can slay.

Circling in flocks to show their might,
All in protection, in case we fight.

Gorging on all the spoils of our land,
In their missions, they had planned.

Hoarding and robbing, as per their type. .
And feeding us all with their lying tripe.

And when these birds have had their fill,
They'll crush us down and render us still.

It happened
when you

flowed into
my world and

whispered
"I do."

A porcelain
vessel

became the
boundless sea.