I wrote this poem around 2018. The background photo was taken by me. I pair my poetic prose with photographs I’ve personally taken or artwork I create using Photoshop CC.
Whenever powerful houses claim they must control weaker lands “for security,” whenever wealth flows upward while soldiers flow downward, whenever people disappear into the night while markets rise in the morning—someone, somewhere, opens an old history book and whispers: This pattern looks familiar.
When a handful of donors can spend millions on ads while ordinary citizens can only cast one vote ⏤ and it is a forced vote at that⏤political power shifts toward wealth and nefarious compromised persons and their organizations.
Americans don’t just vote. We also get outspent. When people talk about “influence,” they often imagine a suitcase of cash sliding across a table. In reality, it’s spreadsheets, legal categories,…
There are chapters in American history that resist simplification. The story of the Cherokee Nation is one of them. It is often reduced to a phrase—“Trail of Tears”—as if sorrow…
Public Office Is Not a Profit Center Lately I’ve been thinking less about which political family may or may not be profiting from office, and more about the system that…