… always stranger.

By J. K. McDowell

May 2016


We cross into the season of named storms.

This dreaming dust awaits a baptism by lightning.

Realize that a once familiar shore is now stranger.


A flash of insight is often needed to move

Along the spirals of memory and belonging.

Odds are the face in the mirror is stranger.


A darkness fills wonderland and the hookah burns

With a new blend of herbs. Inhales, curiousier

And curiousier, become even stranger.


Strength and honor, we stand in the danger beyond

The pale. Weaponless at the ready, hands clasped,

“So say we all” in a cadence never stranger.


The steel for vermin. Despite your justified

Atrocities James, the beheading by a friend is

Always preferred to any cut by a stranger.


Duende, so close to death, this poetic pursuit.

There is no choice here, the inexplicable fears

Disappear and what remains is always stranger.