Ezekiel Soza

it won’t show what’s known hands closed behind the back knowing of questions it doesn’t help to say I cannot see it’s assumed every day blindfold like some cataract keeping you back at the chest like a referee splitting two boxers apart who only want to clench to shorten the distance to know.

years ago I picked up a rock and kept it knowing I didn’t have a special place for it or that one day maybe I’d want to throw it across some frozen pond or let someone whose left throw it in my place. It means too much to have to close your eyes to know […]

the present a present a twin with the same everything I’ll stop there long enough to breathe to remember my name to remember empty planners on my desk long enough to see if what I heard was what I heard tis the same sun that Shakespeare saw the same ground that Jesus walked is there […]