Gazing in
the ghetto
its glow stares

into my mind
in to my eyes
as I rise from

the flickering debris
from the shadows
themselves

from the crevices
filled with tears
and broken dreams

from the compression cracks
in the concrete sidewalks
and the screams of sirens

from the overdoses
of heroin and sadness
from the madness of bad choices

from the filth
and the flashes of
red and blue, from

the ashes of forgotten
faces hidden in those spaces where
only lies are to become true.

And then, as always
there is you, so many miles away
yet emanating a faith

so strong in the light while
chasing out the blackness so
much further into this night

pushing the last
minute particles
of dust and darkness

so far away/from the gutter—Moon.

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James is drawn to art and the complexities of life the way smoke draws to a sudden draft.