Interviews & Reviews
like cordwood / we stack them
My lungs slip out of my / ribcage to flutter / like broken wings
The ground is angled, darkened / by fireball.
Women hold our void.
as if I too could plume carmine / beneath the sun’s fingers.
blackness / all I can / think of
The stalls burst with baskets of figs and dates, the / smell of kebab lamb and warm naan.
I’m still tired from that last patrol
Another day across the long valley road
here we lie our things in theGraveyard of Empires
we rise, together, one more time
We fight for some peace, but peace we have not.
bleached white as bone
Colonels make speeches / in which they must mention / their spouses, feminine endurance, / a devotion to sacrifice.
Now I understood / the bake sales for Dragon Skin Armor requested by buddies / who claimed that Army IBA failed after only one shot.
Routines fall into cadence, but still, / truth has a roguishness about it—
You can never understand the cost my / Service has had on my body and soul.
You come home from the war... you are different now.