Port au Prince

Mass of white steel
Black bodies shaking
Cheap trucks full of adolescent fight
Boys with guns and whipping rods

Steel clack on concrete
Tortured procession
A slow march on bare feet
Around corners to painful sessions

and God cried

Ebb and Flow

The barren landscape of seemingly rotting nose
Giving life to the mud and the movers
Primeval movements that, unknowingly, give us glimpses
To the subtle horizon of God

The wind empties and oxygen floods
Oceans Move and tempest rages
Gives life and takes-
material and life with the pressure of the air

Moving towards it feet are taken
Legs cut by organic razor
Nostrils burn from it’s inaccessible beauty
There, the microcosm and God moves alone