Poetry & Prose

People On Boats

Tired and broken you come to us

on Fox as you do in boats

too small for the weight of lives

they ferry. tell me this water ends

with arms open people dissolving into people

and not with more uniforms/men with high stares

standing at the fronts of lines arms crossed/separation

they are waving at me

Children in line with palms

empty a man’s hand on my shoulder turns me away

tells me you are not their father

people running past burning houses you are not their brother


we do not agree with them

(the burners) it is just that our docks are so full

of plastic people screens tank tops with eagles (white) dreams


there is no room for you

to dock from that place where like the blood you flowed

from earth to water the winds

between me and you are too strong

for my prayers to fly between

without being scattered entropy

the tendency of all things how ironic

that must seem to you now I know,

you were a scientist the children

who flock to your tent to play experiments

want to do the fire one you always agree

squinting at the flames like they took something

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