At home
my aimless mind
writes poemless lines.
Homeless under
trees or sky,
my lines take aim
to fly.

Friday, February 25, 2022

Kyiv at Night

Through the window, I watch the lights.
Flares of brilliance--the skyline changes
under the footsteps of approaching giants.
No enlightenment, this, no celebration,
and certainly no brawling gods. This
is the hubris of men who barter peace
for power and make speeches
as warbirds scream above the lifted cries
of children.

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