Drafting Greatness, Volumes I-II

Vol. I

There is a distilled voice
That emigrates among the dirges
Of greatness
And resuscitates like a peace pipe
Among the darting sea

I do not have too many pines
For greatness, among the ports
Of leaning and craft
But I have seen distilled winters levy
Among the gratefulness of night

Vol. II

There is a drifting side succumbing
Arms broken in the allotment
Of sequestered moments of untampered groves

Grace, love burning free in the rhythm
Joints of labor and free duress
From the entanglement of her chains
Like torso doves singing two songs

Into the arms of greatness
Where no pleasant drafting un-furloughs
Like two can’t rhythms
And moments where we protested
To dance like mercy’s fire