No Guts No Glory

Jimmy gave him an old rag that he held against his face to stop the bleeding

Ma

Locks the door behind. Still on the floor. I can hear but I'm blind.

The reality of bent nostalgia and good drunks

When he hit, boy laughed. Small fearful, feral laugh. Who knows why? But he did and boy knew when.

Restoring (Prison song)

Screws are hard. Screws become bent. Souls can be wrong. But souls can turn right. Don't play their game. Otherwise. They will put you into the frame.

Victim

Severe truth about life and our society

Love with all its wrinkles

better than sex

Finite's Lost Arrow

there's always one

MAN ON A TRACTOR poem

acreage stretching into the sun a driver prideful of his rows their perfection in rounded shapes

NEW YORK CITY SEPT 11, 2001 poem

cell-phones cry love to distant homes families listen in terror, sad conversations memories of precious voices, and then silence, smoke, faces raised in awe.

EYES poem

tears heard from loving children a father not realizing his loved one absorbed it all.

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