Monday, October 1, 2007


There's peace in dreams, and terror too-
Sometimes the ghosts will speak
Sometimes they come for company
Sometimes for words unsaid
Sometimes to warn the living
Sometimes to mourn the dead
They come to tell their tales true
And find the dreams they seek


I spread my tracers carefully-
There's five per magazine
My enemy is no giant
No modern day Goliath-
He's just an ordinary man
But still I guard them carefully
My five well-chosen stones
To kill a man like you and me

Growing Up

Once, in my youth, I dreamed
Strange things and stranger place
The inky void above that seemed
To dare my mind to race
To twist the tails of ice and fire
And ride the wind to space
I did not lack then for desire
To see the warring cease
But it took fighting in the mire
To grant those dreams their lease
In my youth I dreamed of younger things
But now, I dream of peace.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007


Deep within the forests
Atop the mountain peaks
There's blue and green aplenty
But less of other hues

Crimson burns the brightest
Of the rarer shades
It quickens in the sunset
And marks the death of leaves

For crimson's fleeting beauty
Foretells beauty's end.

The Ferryman

The tunnel sharp descends to light-
Charon's gloomy calm abates
Bring the boat, boys! There's work tonight!
A load or two from a firefight!
War-slain, ho! Your ship awaits!
Just a copper, if you please-
For passage 'cross these dire straits
To bear you to the final gates
Charon's laughter turns to pleas-
It's not so bad in Hell, you know;
I'd gladly trade and take my ease
And leave others to ply the seas.


I am the land
-the land of ten thousand years
-the land between the rivers

I become a part of you
-and you of me
-you eat me
-you drink me in

I will cling to some of you
-eat them
-drink them in
-exhale them clean again
Across my rivers

I am theirs as they are mine
I am after they are gone
I am the land


Like a shimmer in the desert sun
That twists and weaves before the wind
And passes, once the day is done
I can not touch
I do not watch
All I do will turn to sand
The work I've done will meet its end
And blow like vapor 'cross the land
I am not here
I am Mirage

Monday, August 20, 2007


I saw him watching by the street
The dust of ages on his feet
His swarthy face was flecked with green
Of eyes that hide his thoughts unseen
That pierce, and haunt, and wonder why
Why we have come so far to die?
Why we have sought to own this place?
Why we might stop short in our race?
He watched us fight the desert heat
As he stood shaded by the street.

Written in May, 2007, for the watcher in Falluja.


I saw the world laid before my feet
Like a school ground full of children playing
Gathered here and there- the parents watching
As if their own squabbles were not petty
And their own mistakes even more deadly
For in truth, delusion is reality
A war is playing, but with brutality

A voice asked me- when will it be enough?
How long until the senseless killing ends?

Written during spring 2007, after a bombing at a mosque.

Ghosts of Winter

That I should die in winter
And be buried in the snow
'Neath all that's white and pure
To lull the ghosts below

Slip me beneath the whitened tufts
Of summer grass laid sleeping
Leave me there to rest, alone
A hero's silence keeping

No misery in winter wind
No grief on glittering snow
Yet, hallow all who life rescind
That freedom there may go

On the air a last note echoes
The crowds have gone away
Drifting through marble meadows
Like snowflakes through the sky

Do not come and weep for me
The world is, as it should be
Life above, the dead below
Lying there, beneath the snow

Written during winter, 2005, as I contemplated deployment.

Halls of Valhalla

Four days ago, they left
From safely guarded walls
Three taken now by theft

Four days, and yet it seems
Fate made three captive thralls
To laugh within our dreams

Four days, and now they dwell
Within Valhalla's Halls
Maidens, treat our fallen well

Show them not the road to Hell;
Rather gird the path with beams
Hide them deep inside a cleft
And Valkyries- heed their calls

Written Febuary 12th, 2007.
In memory of SGT Jim Holtom, SGT Ross Clevenger, and PFC Ray Werner.

See Now

See now, the soldier-
So far away from home
He's staring into night
And wishing it would end

See now, the bomber-
Fighting war for Allah
He's laying in the grime
Waiting by the trigger
See now, the splinter-
Chased by fiery lace
It's flying with the blast
And tearing flesh in flight
See now, the father-
A bomb-hole in his heart
He's weeping for his son
So far away from war

Written Febuary 2nd, 2007.
In memory of CPL Steve Shannon.