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