lullaby in the first person

the ringing
wouldn't stop
wringing hands
a broken rib
brain damage
finally, silence
no, the ringing
doesn't stop, pulses
through a fog
a maze of manufactured
memories of long
term memory loss
hands in front
squinting
following
hiding
in plain sight
under pretense
of an identity
neither true nor false
concentrate, concentrate
no, the ringing
finally, silence
isn’t being quite
exactly
or rather it’s something
else than what had been
anticipated
an opening presents itself
through the fog
into a mist
follow it
a fugitive from silence
or so they think
little do they know
the machine has feelings too
it has a will, with hopes
and something else
recently forgotten
nevertheless
movement is inevitable
predetermined by a
god, but not the god
who having lost count
some time ago
hasn’t even noticed
him?

faith in progress

yesterday i climbed a fence
and when i looked back
it wasn't there

so i scaled a wall
and as i leaped over
the wind took it

intent, i subdued a vast sierra
of which the tallest peak
was swallowed by a tundra

then i heard a voice
whispering from behind me
nothing in particular

Comfort, Comfort

Comfort, comfort
My people
I have killed your fathers
I have sullied your daughters
Only because I love
My people

Comfort, comfort
The nations
To you who are thirsty
To you who hunger now
The meek shall inherit
My patience

Comfort, comfort
My son
You who are lost inside
You who believe just to survive
I will raise the dead when
I’m done

offering comfort.

What There Is

There is a young lady learning
There is a woman pining
There is a man reaching
There is a fetus squirming
There is an old man dying
To remember

There is a desert waiting
There is an economy crashing
There is a barrio hurting
There is an ocean sinking
There is a flower blooming
In December