sorrow blossoms emit
light spectra

                      circus spun
                a creek across
death’s felched seed

              fallow as the end of time
              all the nothing new that
              came was like
              a paper crown on
              memory’s propped corpse

whole fields of  dandelion
ghost rhythms  oscillating
in a cellular pulse the past


         helicopter wings thrum
       fountainous bludgeoning
    baton-brought blood down
  my forehead drips the hot salt
metallic   red   sweat  seedlings
  from the wet of my rung wound
    but we tried to steal from ATMS
               we disobeyed the sun again
                            we were bloodied by
                                  a  passive  song
                                  swells lacking a
                                mouth to inhale tear
                               gas plumes the peace
                             breaks        out           in
                              siren    song       blaring
                                  below the moonglow’s
                                         curfewed   aching  for
                                                  a future that won’t
                                                              come unless
                                                                   we bring it

Joe Rupprecht is a poet living in Philadelphia. His work can be found in Prolit, Soft Surface, Heavy Feather Review, The Poetry Project Newsletter, Full Stop, SAND, Peach Magazine, New Delta Review, and elsewhere. TWITTER