university dining…

the chocolate
gingerbread man’s
decorated
with
just enough
white frosting
to
fit in well
for
the private feast
served
on
white plates
never
part of
the main meal
just a bit
of
table ornamentation
more like
a part
of
the table service
with limited
utility
in the eyes
of
the users
needless
to say
the wear and tear
gradually
breaks off
parts
and
so
soon
even
the memory
of
that time
together
is
lost

 

freedom’s march…

rotating the sphere
an embedded scorpion
that appears to move
merely the glass refraction
like societal changes

 

the book of dying: 1:8…

while some starved others grew fat
demanding the weak carry their load
the indebted workers had no choice
so made gold they couldn’t hold

 

then freedom dies…

sitting
acquiescing
to
injustice
tacitly submitting
to
our own slavery
denying
that
there are
chains
binding us
to
survival fears
justifying
our lot
in
life
by
claiming
that
this life
is
better than
that life
and
this country
is
better
than
that country
so
words
are spoken
denying
the smell
of
a nation’s
rancid flesh
passively
saying
there’s
nothing
i
can do