Morse code; hushed tones amplified by walkie-talkies–
Pretend play was aroused by your grandfather's recollections of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
"Ro Sham Bo!" Neither of us ever wanted to be the Nazis–
We fought the guards of Hitler's bunker with what we learned from a few lessons of karate.
Gunslinger slang; John Wayne's discolored photocopies–
We chased the dream of the wild frontier through the Great Basin Desert and the Rockies.
Through imagination we saw ourselves as the heroes our ancestors could never embody.
YOU ARE READING
Handfuls of Dust
Poetry"Handfuls of Dust" is a deep, diverse collection of poems I have written over the past two years.
