Written outside at my podium on the street at work...

"I push away poplars
with the force of a breath
and I marvel
at the subtlest degrees of resistance
we still possess.
Even as we smile
and demure with pleasant words,
the ardent 'no' is still heard."

"The question isn't whether or not
you hear voices --
it's which ones you trust...."

My request
is that we be afraid together
when this sadness descends from nowhere...
And he turned out the light
in the elevator
and I must confess
I can't remember
the last time
I was witness to such utter blackness.
And the blackest man
was the brightest
in the game, anyway.
And we,
just terrestrial beings,
vying to edge closer to the sun

as it ages.