art poetry sociology Uncategorized writing

correct change

to quantify what 189,00 dead Americans

equates to within the psyche of this country

we must apply the correct math

due to lack of competent leadership within the White House

the COVID19 pandemic has been allowed to spread

across schools to cemeteries

into three Vietnams

or sixty-three

September the 11ths

Donald Trump should be made to place coins

from his own pocket

over the eyes of every corpse

he could have prevented &

perhaps the saddest notion is

even if the great king

cared to part with his shekels

our country will still be left

more bankrupt

from his mistakes

than him



he loved me
the way film
can make death


it could be worse

it could be worse

i could be sitting at avenue B & Tompkins watching the effluvium crawl up the bricks waiting for my next spike

i could be a failed painter

i could be pregnant

i could be married

i could have a cubicle in which to toil

i could be in a bread line

i could have never been published

another unsold Christmas tree poet

i could be in new jersey

pretending to be a different sex

to escape my mistakes

i could be in Florida…

i could have never known love

but i’m not

i’m in Suburbia

waiting for my genes to catch up with me

reading good books

with a dead thyroid gland

until my tits rot off

or the allure of daddy’s suicide

gets me first