Street Roots • September 1-7, 2017
Poetry
Democracy, With Surety
Isolation
By Heath Cleaveland
By Kim Trano
To be driven, a bonny way to be indeed;
The tread of soles not requisite for transport
From A to B or, to tack to a course quite
Different, the soul instead makes their soles
Pattern indelibly there to be read by all whose
Hearts are sure to reach into a bag of news and
Find these acts have purely made impressions
Which will not fade from thought of minds on
Tour in this life, one of strife, the knife, the door.
Habits formed, deleting norms, a driven pasttime
Born of tasting thorns when nourishment was sought,
Fills the habituated crew, Lieber’s depersonalized
Few, growing in number day by day, for those who
Doubt routine is nothing worth reaping with the holy rod,
Think again. Our brothers from places remote, where
The right to vote is like the right to sow seeds in
Another’s garden, just might experience the need to
Fight in these lands for the mere luck to be themselves.
Isolation in a crowded bus
the pit of my stomach knots
Are people able to see beyond my shell
I know they can tell I’ve lost my soul
I
go home, no voicemail, plants need water
my cat doesn’t even respond
Am I on this plant? Who am I?
The milk is curdled, it too was left
alone to long
Just like the memories stuck in my heart
but I cannot say for fear of a total meltdown
These words are lodged in my brain
: I am afraid of you
: I am afraid I’m not good enough
: I am scared
: I need you
But I stop myself because
you may condemn me
you may not like me
you may say I am worthless
And I would believe you
Laugh at Yourself
by Aileen McPherson
A long day out, with friends scurrying
here and there see bareback horses
fair fresh clean air rolling
hills we stride, back to a van
underside, driveshaft compromised
Repair, rejuvenate, arise, alive,
Onward now thirty miles, glide
home greeted by motherly smile, pom
fluffy snow cold wet nose licking
toes, down the throat pepsi goes
Jokes toes laugh so hard out nose
Laughter laughter in the air, boy that
burns, let’s not do that again my dear.
A ccom plishm ent
by Daniel Cox
I see the misery on nameless faces
Who dwell on the streets
Cast away from a broke society
Only a few have a glimmer of hope.
For those who dwell on the street.
Did you serve in the
Armed Forces
and are experiencing
I
*
I
or at
risk of
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