TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #424
I see a king as light as a feather held on to by the teeth of wolves. The wind does nothing to him. The spittle is his joy. He is held so tightly by their sharp attention that it must at certain panicking points feel like real love meant to make his struggle valiant. He is a real man. That is his blood. If it’s not his blood, then this story is really fucking dark.
TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #425
The secrecy isn’t cruel. The secrecy is a misplaced mercy. We have written down the names of so many people that would prefer us to be dead or at least gone. We have chanted some of those names. The secrecy is an animal without bones. It’s useless, but it’s important if we’re going keep the fear that gives us these names.
TRUMP AS A FIRE WITHOUT LIGHT #426
Don’t let them separate your nerves. They’re poking you to divide you. Accept that this is painful. Challenge their fingers!
My poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including the South Dakota Review, Meridian, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review.
I am the author of six poetry collections, most recently “Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly” (2016, 8th House Publishing). I am the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry.
I am currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with my wife and children.
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