the drone
its payload
high above
the Afghan
desert, an
calculating who
lives or dies
the all-seeing
eyes of
swapping bad
jokes in binary,
a reddit post
gone wild
the work
of our
see what
terror sets
in motion,
a goldberg
machine of
planes &
towers &
fear & anger
& platoons
& isn’t that
the way it goes
until someone
finally says enough
& funny how
it’s never
who you expect
& of course
all this tech
was supposed
to make
our lives
so much
softer &
I’m still waiting
for the jetpack
& hovercraft
the 1950s
promised &
we are oh so
close thanks
to this never-
ending war
but now we
look for the
robots delivering
pizza, packages
from Amazon,
& bombs from
Uncle Sam &
we’re all guilty
of something
worth dying for
so look out:
the skies
are watching


the summer storm
swept in from the south
with winds whipping
trees to fury;
a duck’s hiss of hail
pummeling us to safety

what unexpected luck
to find the greyed lean-to
in the middle of the wood
your hair a mess of wet
stuck to your forehead,
your t-shirt clinging
like the old flame
I would soon become

& isn’t it just
like a storm
to suck the air
out of an unwalled
room & leave
you panting &
wanting more than
anyone can give