Hey, you’re Moses, right?

Say, so when are we getting

to the Promised Land?

Cause my dogs are barking,

and my children are screaming,

and our community is cracking

into a million little pieces

under the blazing extreme heat

steaming between whispering friends.

Neptune’s nephews

It is sometimes hard to imagine

myself as a child again, back in

their day, of eleven or eight,

when I ran open-armed through the

fields of waving wheat wheels

that tunneled from one circle to

another and back again.

It wasn’t really a lunar landing, or

something from outer space,

but back then, I did imagine

it could have been.

Ask

It’s a painful

place to be

expecting help

but not asking

for it.