protocol and weather;
no art of noise
when day\'s long honesty
stifles pain and dares one single wish,
to kiss the lips of prophecy for doom.
to soon the stench of mangrove syphons blood
from dialogue between comfort and complete;
dead among the leaves
last words a braver man than who and I?
sunrise as twenty paces
we turn, two locking horns
migrating south
to where the silence breeds more common ground;
duty bound
Whit Sunday comes too soon another day
where an English rain
dancing through the panic of acorn
dulls our senses shades of pedigree;
where does our hunger hide?
in our country clouded
bent and buckled
fishing for a lobster in a heart;
how thin the people look as love looks down.
a ballad for a hungry man
of all I can I cannot do
how many times I try
I cannot breathe;
I