(from my unpublished 1st Chapbook, ouRevolution, 2008)

But hearing red

Barely breathing
Just not yet dead

Off all fours, getting up from concrete floors
Resisting anything but truth, gravity, or friction

See, the rhetoric you spit with such defined convictions
I can only consider honestly misconstrued diction

If you wield weapons, son
You really aught to tighten the grip
On your sweating tongues
Slip decision

I’m on my way, soon in your face
Can you taste this moment yet?

Everyone shares each breath inhaling
Everyone bleeds blue blood exhaling

I’m beat, but
I’m certainly not out
I’m getting up again
Right here off this ground

I may be blind but I ain’t dumb

You see colors?

I see sound