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Ajax killed men and then animals thinking they were men.

Grasshoppers tumble from the reeds, snapping like electricity.

Bees kill wasps by gathering around and tightening in the middle.

Fatwas condoned our arrest for the rouged contours of our lips.

After several months, I worked up the courage to share a war poem.

I’m recalling his socks, the inked initials, the splashes of blood.

From a pyre on the burning ghat a corpse slowly sits up in the flames.

Wet air. Big windsound in the leaves—a kind of prayer, maybe.

I wanted my love to be everywhere, then love began to bite through me.

With a hammer well aimed, try to destroy the whole with a single blow.

The poem I can’t yet write saves itself for when it can’t be avoided.

Condemned to an easy life balanced on the suffering in another land.

Beyond her ampleness, he stands a small man vanquished.

David Lee

For the president’s arrival they shot two dogs making love on the tarmac.

My soul is simple; it doesn’t think. Something strange paces there now.

Arrows shot by the halt at the lame,
 Opinions come and go just the same.


Men are so delicate, must be given many portals. I try to be game.

She regarded the world calmly without the filter of her suffering.

A memory in the drip, drip, drip of the kitchen sink that won’t stop.

My mother is queen of buttons. She shows off the prized ones.

The first skeleton drawn from the earth, they called beautiful.

And the starved heart starts over, writing one line at a time.

My brother stealing all the lightbulbs, my parents live without light.

All right. We are perfect. Tomorrow we will make a million dollars.

Here: geeky cyber-warriors crunch cheese Cheetos over keyboards.

Bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, and fill all fruit with ripeness.

They cut you off, let fall your hammered silver bracelets to the sand.