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War & Violenceexpand_moreThe underworld reached out for your hand and found payment.
If there was any magic in his sad life, it happened on that day.
“I can’t die, I don’t want to die, I love life,” Prince Andrei thought.
You and me is as good as anybody else, and maybe a damn sight better.
He studies their mannerisms, looking for clues to the psycho spirit.
They caught those few of us left unclaimed by the one emotion, or the other.
In exchange for our labor, we would each be given a new set of clothes.
I don’t think I was very frightened. I was simply hungry for home.
We looked at each other beneath a London sky, on a Zeppelin night.
He thinks with joy and conviction that the Japanese are his enemy.
The caved-in storefront looked as if a missile had slammed into it.
“Rev. MacLean’s been stabbed in Oban,” his wife said, her voice thin.
He said, every night you close the store, I watch you walk to your car.
I instantly realised what losing would mean. My whole life was at stake.
I’d chosen three hundred boys out of the best Israel had to offer.
so this god is only wood and holes, a blank, like the moon’s unlit side.
Darla has come to the monument to fight against her mind.
He probably should have arrested or at least reported me to someone.
After days of torture in secret prisons, they were about to let him go.
El Presidente was no longer in a mood to see the American press.
The Kid came back from the post trader’s store with a six-shooter.
My mother’s city and I were both named after an assassinated king.
The interrogator was both man and deity, prophet and god.
The sense of power that flights of temper evoke will betray you.
A coldness bumped a last kiss upon my cheek, a good-bye kiss sliding across.
Any society that fails to protect its children is in terminal decline.
He handed us sticks of dynamite, rolled in wax paper like taffy.
He whispers words that sound as miraculous as the skinned fish of the clouds my father writhed like pentecostal snakes while he drove drunk
He always talked of making money with the air of a connoisseur.
I can’t hold a face held before dawn & not see behind the eyes bullets.
