...and then...

I went to prison this week, for the first time. Sadly, like many folks who've never been inside a correctional facility before, my expectations had been shaped by MSNBC's Lock-Up , HBO's Oz , the films ConAir and Shawshank and, maybe, a dab of The Andy Griffith Show . I know. How surburban of me. Suffice it to say, my assumptions were ... um ... wrong. True, the innmates could've been actually shanking and hustling and tossing one another right before I showed up, but they were writers and poetry fans with me. By the end of the night, I was signing programs like a rock star and accepting generous compliments and thank-yous for the day we'd spent together. "You're a blessing ... really." Me? Sheesh. "Thank you" isn't quite adequate, d'ya think? No, I didn't think so either. Especially when they are the ones who made the day important, which made it spectacular. For my part, I turned a workshop into a sustainable series ... someth

Words stand still frightfully suspended between broad bands of expectation Bodies of young boys beneath murky lagoon surfaces bound by marsh weeds pulled down to sweeten its stagnant streams Words frozen in my mouth jagged edges digging into fury tearing open that simple shell exposing apathy's patient dead seed Unable to bear fruit from freedom ringing verdicts handed to police academy misfits one family our community all damned to prune these plantation field perversions grief proving its forever harvest Words shrink away today too small and limp to even wobble beneath the weight of this unbrave world shrinking into corners what good can they do anyway