Poems

The narcissistic cannibal, always ravenous, is a connoisseur of himself. He has acquired quite a taste for the junk food of his thoughts. His mouth waters as he pops open the Styrofoam box of bigotry. He can’t get enough. He has no feelings but indigestible fear....

A funny word: ‘enough’. Spelled funny. (wouldn’t ‘enuff’ do) There must be roots and reasons for the ‘gh’ preceded by ‘ou’. It sounds funny too, like fluff, ruff, or bluff. In a world of scarcity, there’s never enough. Where a few have too much, and many more have too...

This is a brief philosophical inquiry into the meaning of being human. In order to appreciate the meaning of our human life, we must  contemplate the contribution death plays in our being fully alive.  Living and dying appear together  and are deeply entangled. We...

Many poems are the result of deciphering silence. Some poems are the result of deciphering noise.

Because I have a skin. Because my skin is a particular color. Because the color is called white. Because white is privileged by custom. Because the custom is enforced by law. Because the law is on my side. Because I must do very little to be judged right. Because I...

I didn’t believe then. I don’t believe now. Not in the efficacy of votive candles lifting prayers to heaven on small waves of heat. But in the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviere on a hill high over Lyon, France, the praise of city traffic rumbling below, the Rhone...

In an airport waiting for flight, surrounded by others also waiting for flight, none of us present in the vast glass and steel sprawl, all of us already on to elsewhere, I saw a young man who did not look the part, sitting stone settled and still in his suit and blue...