Poetry by David James ∠ Photography by Keith Mosso_19korflde1t8m1r3qeusont13ka2k

Once I write that poem

that wins me one million dollars

I’ll be free

to say what I want.

My real poems will seep out

like blood or sweat, those poems

that capture life with its pants down,

life in those uncompromising positions

like photos of celebrities in sweatsuits

walking their ugly dogs.

I’ll write poems that burn straight through

every hypocrite, every racist and buffoon,

every Bible-thumping moron claiming

to hold the Truth in his hand.

My poems will cure the sick,

provide hope to the oppressed and dying,

wipe away global warming and save

every single endangered species.

People will eat my poems and no longer

feel the pang of hunger.

They’ll wear my poems to keep warm;

they’ll hold my poems close

and know love in its truest form.

Poems will shoot out of my fingertips,

shine through my eyes and mouth,

and explode inside my heart

until I become a poem, and the poem

becomes the air and dust and rain and stars.

Everything and everyone will become my poem,

living, breathing, being.


All this, if you just give me

a million bucks.



“Photographing your food makes eating it less enjoyable.”

                              from “Findings,” Harper’s, Dec. 2013


Photos of mountains always made


you long for Iowa cornfields,

for deserts, for Lake Huron, spreading out calm and flat.

This may explain future decades


of self-loathing by millions taking selfies

and posting them on social media. There is no shield

strong enough to hold back the truth.


If you want to lose weight, bring a camera and click your dinner.

If you want to dump your boyfriend, pose and kneel

for him in picture after picture, frame and matte


each one.  If you’re an alcoholic, host a photo shoot

of whiskeys and gin, vodka and rum, beer and wine.

Why does capturing something with a camera or phone


make it less desirable?  From Portland to Duluth,

from Mobile to Bar Harbor, saints and sinners

whip out their cameras, try to capture the shine


of the world in their friends, beaches, sunsets and sunrises.

But it can’t be done. One click, two clicks

and the moment begins to fade, lost in a long line


of memories, a beautiful song crumbling into a drone.


BIO: David James’ most recent book, MY TORN DANCE CARD, was published in 2015 by FCNI Press. His second book, SHE DANCES LIKE MUSSOLINI, won the 2010 Next Generation Indie Book Award. More than thirty of his one-act plays have been produced from New York to California.

o_19korfldf2pe1v216s7fnu1ne031See more  Keith Moss at

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Global artists and writers dedicated to sharing creativity around the world.

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