My Poetry

I am not
nor am I striving
to be
sufficiently nonspecific    or
poetically vague.
Toying with the truth
as a kitten with
an expired
mouse.
 
I am
and I am striving
to be
sufficiently specific    and
caustically direct.
Mine is not the kitten
but the lion
doing battle for the truth
as its only means of
sustenance.
 
I haven’t seen anybody vaguely
pulled from a burning building.
I haven’t seen anybody nonspecifically
warned that they were walking off a cliff.
 
I cannot waltz the truth in ballroom fashion.
I must the dance of Jacob
and I’ve got the limp to prove it.
 
Mine is not
the saccharin taste
of the rose colored glass.
 
Mine is
the taste of blood
from a ruptured lip
in the fifteenth round.
 
In the fifteenth round
there is no time
for vagueness. 
 

From the book "Christian Poems and Other Radical Explorations"