i-of the storm ( a trilogy)

do you see a mountain

wait listen

to the grey

gliding on spider whispers


or are those clouds

sky splinters

of the world you made before


our eyes were painted shut

now everything we long to see

is burning like the bush



you look like

george washington

crossing the delaware

but in black and white

with a monument of hair

standing defiant

as lincoln on the five dollar bill

marble wisdom

hewn with violence

against your body

your only recourse

as an artist

is to return fire

with your pallet

and your brush

commanding the anxious mob

to hush

this river is cold

this boat is small

one stray bullet will sink us all


i saw you


your eyes turned to summer

the wind

swept aside harsh winter

as you flew

into saltwater

and swam your way

out of the cancer




(these poems are dedicated to a man who has inspired me since i was a teenager)






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