SPOTTED CHARITY

Spotted Charity dwells on low

Not keeping time, unaware

Of five-finger discounts

She is bound by blindness

And feels joy and fatigue

At $20 given to a definite junkie

She dwells where Beauty seldom does

But when together, there is a riot

Of peace and cameos

Aureoles vacant

DIMESTORE ANGEL

She said, “you just

needed an angel.”

I needed several,

of the arterial kind,

in most probable

ranging.

But then,

of course,

one I had.

As ever,

flown.

MY FATHER TAUGHT ME

My father taught me this:

the unknowing of beings

from historical perspectives

and how to return volumes

A monumental silence at unit

where disallowances scream

from the soil of male-sweat

that pollutes the air and beds

Leaving us just this:

the apish calm of father

and the son

No rest