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The twelve were coming in …, 
twelve like gods, with sealed fates.
Mortals with keys to death and dungeons of hell, 
where devils walked in numbers, and are owned; 
they are someone’s belongings. I could not see me.
That place is it where there is blood without formed elements … 
or nutrients. Colors became significant (blue and red).
We know of the black and white barriers; 
the ones we pretend do not breathe in Washington. 
Brothers and a nation are built behind steel bars.

The thought of that woman, 
the woman that stands bold 
with torch beckoning to come and taste the dream, 
is like a haunted house, and I, a little child of three.
How she defends self-government 
while she’s trapped at sea. Freedom is a long way …
Liberty is far-flung, 
but I must not lose what is left of free will.
When the verdicts are festooned, 
they ought to downgrade the others;
there should be no rivalry. 
Without such it is simple to mislead the bulk.


I am my better half; 
I come clean without boasting on my tongue.
I often wondered if Hilary plagues … 
because she believes she has a better hand, 
or is there absolute amnesty. 
This thought I contemplate to summon sleep
 instead of counting sheep. 
The guy who swings the three iron, I often think of his wife; 
how her shoes were on to run. Was it hurt are shame?
Love is far too shallow to be called love.


I shall kill her, 
and set her in the depth, 
where she will be eaten by her conscience; 
sometimes I questioned if there’s one. 
Maybe one is near, but suppressed.
I must kill her 
with this ball-point that poured out the contents
of a lamenting soul; she must go before she is far gone. 
Is the law a crooked device,
 a mean provided for some to get even?
Who suffers when she cried wolf?
Hell is the amount of her condescension.
She has to die, to live anew, 
and to allow the halves to live.
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