The Shift

I’m no expert on the rules
that govern tectonic shifts,
the rumblings of which are
felt by all and none.

I’m no hero that comes to
defend the masses, or rather,
comes to defend even one, for
I am afraid of all and none.

But whether or not I understand
or defend, the ground rumbles
and vibrations shiver beneath
our feat, planted firmly

and yet unstable. Desert people
can smell an earthquake from
miles away, the winds of change
stoking fires in our senses.

Escape is not promised, it is but
a chance, a coincidence, brushing
an insignificant few who can walk
through fire and fault lines.


Watch the ebb and flow
the outrage come and go.

So easily we give yet more.
Just a bit, we let it go.

So when they come around
again, hands out and asking,

we slip out a little more
just a bit, we let it go.

Initial anger, then apathy.
Outrage, followed by release.

Why fight? It’s not so bad.
Why leave? Where’s the honor?

Quickly dissent becomes assent,
no one stands their ground for long.

Cowards in the cave, all warm,
for comfort they’d let it all go.

Watch the ebb and flow
the outrage come and go.


Is it cancer?
Or is it something else
which steals from
the mind its rational thought?

Or perhaps it’s
like cancer in the way it
seems to grow
and manipulate and take over.

So we will call it
cancer and pretend what this
truly is doesn’t
exist and all can sleep more

easily at night-
for the guilt of a world we
can’t control and
don’t help to improve will

weigh less heavily
on our cowardly shoulders…

Nieznana Wojna

Oscillating somewhere
between conformity and
unabashed rebellion

I fight the secret
war, the battle known
to none but myself.

I fight the great chains
that, often, I forget
chaff the sinew of my

spirit, I’m embarrassed
to say. Sucked into dia-
logues against demagogues

and diatribes about
morality and ethics
that dictate or,

rather, fail to dictate
what is done for those
who do are beholden to none.

Like a robot, I download
and upload, and reload
and login then logout

as softwares record my
moves and clicks and links
and likes for some machine

or system to determine for
me what I will do and see
and fear and love, I click

then unclick and know I’m
fooling no one but like
a mouse I do what I’m

bid to do by those who do
and my moves are theirs
to control and peruse.

I die

for just a moment each
day when I rise and for
a flash I realize what

is going on, what’s been
done, only to turn and
forget as quickly as I

knew, like water dripping
from my palms, like a
dream that slips away

before you can recall
what it was, I forget
what I remembered as

quickly as it was
recalled and I sit,
head in my palms trying

to bring back the facts
I thought I knew, I
thought I’d caught, the

things a moment ago, I
swear I knew, but now I
don’t. I argue, against

I know not what. Once the
thoughts are voiced, they’re
gone and the argument

is lost, or forgotten.
I fall into compliance
until the next day I

rise again and remember
that which I couldn’t recall
and then I forget again.

I fight the unknown war.
I flail against chains I
cannot see and that, often

I forget chaff the sinew
of my spirit
I’m embarrassed to say.


Am I your worst nightmare,
or your best case scenario?

Where do I fall on the spec-
trum of the unwanted ones?

Do you tremble at what these
genes might unleash upon you?

Or are you relieved that domi-
nant browns can express white?

Do you shudder at the thought of
children with this portraiture?

Or do you breathe knowing it’s poss-
ible for dirt to turn out this good?

Tell me:

Do I wake you up at night in
a pool of panicky sweat?

Or do I comfort the deepest
depravities of your vile thoughts?