Run!

HEDGE plunging, jolted alert with fear,
BEGIN mad escape from my pursuers.
STUNG by nettles, branch lashed,
SPINY thorn pricked; For now: alive.

Tribalism

BASIS for judgment: norms applied to strangers,
WAIVEd for self long ago-the good now a strange
VAPOR, true north obscured many turnings past.
IRONY: pilgrimage shifted to crusade and trafficked away the pilgrim.

Memento Mori

IRON Your wrinkles all you want, there’s no
BASIS for believing you’ll escape death, no
WAIVER for the fate that makes our life a
VAPOR, a mist that burns away as the sun rises.