A Random Tragedy

A gun is fired aimlessly;

happenstance bullets dance through

a nearby apartment window,

and random tragedy ensues.


we explicate the termination of life

to death.

Chattering as if the meaning

is somewhere beneath our breath.

But really,

we spew comforting rationalizations,

the wishful realization

that the written has run its course

as we sit

in appreciative patience.

Darkness is never haphazard,


These corner-store stabs are orchestrated,

aren't they?

We scream in some sort of harmony,

they say.

But sometimes it seems

out of tune.


you're just in God's line of fire

and I don't think he intends such business.

But don't you believe you deserve

such a hell.


the motherfucker just misses.

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