Poems from Spirit under construction


The Gospel according to Batman

In the Batcave I was born again

over and over twice a week—


the colored lights and constant hum,

the music of cold, dark stone,


it was a catacomb of fighting all the wrong.


With a bath towel safety-pinned around my neck,

I ran into the world that was the world

I could become in all those dreams,


the activation that the stone

revealed, the BIFF! the ZAM! the POW!


At night I looked up, learning the stars.

Bruce Wayne knew their many names.


Blessed are those deadpan lines….


“Of what use is a dream if not a blueprint for courageous action.”


“Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb.”


Don’t hide your lights, the hum.


They were an OOF-KAPOWIE pair

running deep in that device

that was the world clutching the roots that clenched.



  • Originally published in Boulevard.