It is difficult to take the heat off
if you are in the line of fire
but you can always keep the light on

underneath the coffee pot.
No matter how things shape up
the ruling class will always be

kicking around theory after theory
like some modern method of
fortune-telling. One could dig up

a mountain of gold, but one will be
mistook for a prowler, always living on
the other side of the tracks,

fraught with danger, like a child
riding a glass bicycle in a dark alley,
like being awake in a nightmare.

It is said that one shouldn’t run away
from something unless one knows
what one is running away from, but

often times when one takes the liberty
in finding out whatever it is,
it is like inserting ones head into the

jaws of a lion—one enormous nuisance,
like trying to break through a
padlocked door. Danger often lurks about

in silence, planting distrust in one’s heart,
the way that a mosquito may land on
one’s flesh during the night, sucking

“in peace.” In this modern “dim age of
barbarity,” I just want to cut an Eden
into every home, quicker than the blur

of an ancient raider’s blade, giving one
something better to look at than the
daily decay.


There are a lot of things
that slip through the fingers
& become like vacant lots
where later you say,

I knew her when...
but you are only speaking
in riddles with unwavering
accuracy if you think that

the spirit of the past
does not remain. It is true
that things that come easily,
go easily, but sitting around

waiting for the photo to lie
is like touching the bottom
of the swamp, as if it were an
arrangement made in heaven.