Oh Delaware,
I am bandaged with poetry.
I do not set sail.
I cross this with my feet,
crouch
and look for the corpse of my dog,
hallowed in heaven without me.

Whose banner do I raise?
Terrible without her,
but that is not all I’ve lost.
I’ve lost the hope of man.
Oh outcast come find me.

No amount of woods will separate me from you
seeking law.
I have written poetry
in troubled times,
and the oppressor is on the snake,

but that’s not all I’m worth.
My social stigma rides me now,
bigger than all humanity.
The pathology of man when he is healed
is not a glorious sacrament.
It blithes.

What is heaven’s hope?
I make it to the other side.
I cross this bridge in time.
Do you hear the doubt in my voice?
Doubt rides the keel,
and I’ve drawn a ship for my feet
made of pebbles.

Sinking sands my rivers lie.
I cry in my bedclothes.
Dreams fling me to challenge and test,
and I see my loved ones pass before my eyes.
So where do I take my day?

I stand up goddammit and make this crossing,
failure ever looking at me.
Etched deep in the lines of reality
I have lifted up my voice.
It’s not my name I want you to know.
I want you to grab reality by the balls and love man,
every last one of us,

and for this I cross your heart
in the inner spaces of our kind.
Bury me please
the fountain of your love.