Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, June 14, 2012


Black man
Dressed in black
Drunk and dazed on BART
Asks the fair-skinned woman
Across from him
For an envelope
She quizzically obliges
He buries the white sheath
Underneath his sweater
And smiles.

He takes out a nubby black comb
Begins raking it across
His scrubby black hair
Back and forth, back and forth
Comb, comb, comb
And his eyes glaze over.

He lifts a black bag from floor to lap
Disappears comb into pocket
Shelters his scalp into a black wool cap
Drapes a black hood over his covered head
Leans into the maw of the open bag
And fumbles out
A lottery ticket.

Hunching over 
With Lincoln’s help
He begins
To scratch, scratch, scratch
At the card
As if he were reaching
For some new fortune or freedom
Or just digging himself a cave
So he may go deeper into the dark.

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