On Lorin Sklamberg
His voice, the shape of an Acacia tree
Delineated in an oud’s rosette,
Maintains us with the steadiness that we
Expect of Dad & God, but never get.
My angers grow as specific
As the bodies of the young,
Even as my own body grows
Indistinct as platitude.
Because They Can
A human life’s an order of events.
Most are terrifying because
They cannot be anticipated;
The rest, because they can.
Here Goes Nothing
If you believe in Salvation, alas,
There’s always something left to lose.
I’d rather be hated for reasons I know
Than loved for reasons I don’t.
Substantial with blood, she will not be ignored.
Addiction transforms a young girl into some
Peremptory High Roman patriarch. Lord,
Accord me the graces that nullified Rome.
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Good shorts, Jeff. Plus I like the illustration of a klezmer band atop a rooster. :)