As Brother

I’ve gone beyond the walls,
beyond the walls of Athens

to smoke my cigarette

with the Arabs, the Africans, and Persians.

Though I go not here to
turn on Athens,
to show no one the entrance into her,

but to be with these ones as other,
to smoke with them
as brother,
in the hours of the citrus sun,
the yellow, the gold, the white, and red,

for those of us with arms and legs.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

The Whispering Star

From the CIA’s poor planetary
management
we rise
From the movements in October
first drawn in window panes
we rise
within Detroit
From the codes of the Widow
then passed onto these ions
we rise
We wake we rise
in Calcutta
in Nebraska
in Santiago, then Ultima Thule

We rise from what is unformed
for the whispering star of night

James, I know not what I’ve done