To C. West

Standing redundant

in an echoing wind,

renewing your vanity

with deference to all


At home on the fringes

where truth is an orphan,

you line up your enemies

canons shot at the wall


A general of

a malingering army,

whose entitled thinkers

lay truth in the grave


The devil is calling

his pulpit awaits you,

the olive branch hollow

—your memory enslaved


(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: November, 2020)


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