Baltic Summer

A studio in the shore ditch of


A fresh sea

On the coast of Chicago

As the summer rolls up

Its sleeves

Bringing more heat tomorrow

On a ledge

Cut from fresh grasses

And hedges

The summer rolls on

And wrinkles my shirts


The Priority Capital

When the Cherry blossoms bloom

Up into the sky around the capital

A new season sets upon

Weary souls

Holding hope for the priority


To push through the papers

And represent the people

From whom they are selected

And they owe all

Without them

They never would have been elected


The Migration Ritual

From the bed

To the kitchen

Coffee hand ground

Through the waterfalls

Into a cup bound

Freshly filling the edges

With a glass of refreshment

A morning migration

To day

From sleep

Relying on a Lone Sensor

Why did you do it

To save a dollar

To print another penny

Way up in a high rise

While real people lose

Their lives

Hoping for a miracle

When all of this was preventable

Lone sensors

Lone people to


The Words We Haven’t Read

The story of the biggest story

Larger than the eyes can see

Longer than the mind can imagine

Between the dreams

And the dragons

Where the boys turn into me

When the words slip into letters

Back then

An idea of what is coming

Might be left from the stories

Of what was already written

We just haven’t read