At the
intersection of
knowing and seeking
light is born fragile thin
like ghetto sunrises over
tired asphalt cracked
as stressed as residents
who rise to meet obstacles
strewn likeland mines
throughout raw realities
light enough to see the
holes in the dream the
places where the lies don’t
quite reach the ceiling you
can see if you look hard
or just remember how the hook
is baited the places where
your feet leave the ground
leaving you suspended in suspicious
histories that turn left down the
road where they say two wrongs
don’t make a right with light
you understand that
sometimes they do it depends
on how you add it up
because right is right
and it don’t wrong nobody