Border Crossing Green Light



Daybreak and there’s another
border to cross
This one has a bridge, that one
had a turret
Show cards, papers, cash and smile
No cash
Cat in the glove box
kids in the trunk, just until
we’re across
You smile at the guard, too

Green light

With cool indifference, they ask:
Where are you going?
Where are you from?
What are you doing?
Why are you doing that?
Typing lazily you wonder if they’re even listening
But their booth is a foot above your window
and they only want to hear your sins
Confess nothing

Green light

Pulling forward, you
rub your hand across your forehead
stop at the gas station ahead
let the kids out
let the cat out
Keep driving and you’ll get there in a few days
to your grandmother’s friends from a time
when everyone showed kindness

Green light

and you’re off
tonight your family will sleep in the car
on the side of the road
in the rain
tomorrow you’ll drive again unless
you run out of gas, get in an accident or just
fall apart mentally
Maybe she’ll leave you tomorrow
and take the kids with her
but leave the cat

Red light at bedtime and sleep comes uneasily
She kisses you lightly to relieve
your fears she kisses your tears
Laying your head back and reclining
just a bit
You fall asleep
and wait for the day’s light

At This Moment

At this moment
sitting still matters
listening to conversations
evesdropping and wondering
within and then, hearing

At this moment my coffee plant
patiently waiting
while I see thick hiking socks
and Birkenstocks
I sip, not gulp

At this moment
I don’t fret or moan
or draw deep sighs from within my being
although last week
I did

At this moment
the world’s calamities
are present
we’re more aware that the banalities
of our daily lives affect
more than ever

At this moment
I think about a melting ice cream bar
Audrey’s fake eyebrows
Lucy’s last look
Moving away and NYC
and you

At this moment
its time to work

Tourist Map

Table service by his wife
She, a wilted prom queen
He, her football team captain

Children in tow, older now
Unliked but loved, subtle manipulation
Family formed, a unit

To home in a caravan
A girlfriend, a dog, all in order
Dinner march, convicts to the electric chair

Moving about after their executions
Swallowed in easy chairs
Girlfriend, wife swallow easy from chairs

Home rhythms revealed, normalcy known
Predictability trusted, anything else untrustable
Rest assured, familiarity reigns

In the suburbs there’s a lot to see
I’m from no man’s home
Me, a tourist, and this, my map


Today’s Poem: Requim for Antiq

Requim for Antiq

The Garvey Projects were never a Sunday walk
but parents still
strolled through
ball shots and beatbox
Uneasy rhythms of daily

Laughing, vibrant
and full of
Antiq Hennis was a baby
a boy
in a stroller

Livonia Avenue and Bristol Street
on the downbeat
Suddenly, a release
trigger popped
ball dropped
and Antiq was dead

Covered in blood
Gina Gamboa’s baby
shot in the head
four bullets
meant for his dad

Hospital blues
not Hill Street Blues
this is real

Antiq’s godmother
kissed him,
“doubled over in grief”
and cursed the thief by saying,
This baby
was just a baby

But was he really?
Would he have
grown up
to become a man
to start that band
to make a plan
that would save
us all?

We’ll never know
because Antiq Hennis
is dead
God rest his soul.

Read about the death of Antiq Hennis.

You Might Like…

Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at

Suffering Love, Laughing at Myself


My new poetry collection, Suffering Love, Laughing at Myself, is now available!    

From the bookseller…  

“Exploring love in the broadest dimensions, Adam Sasse’s first collection of poetry covers many parts of life. Thinking about relationships, work, belonging, culture, society, and more, nothing is off limits. Sasse offers a balance between the absurd and the practical, the ethereal and the earthly. All the while, his poetry carefully brings readers to new depths and meanings, challenging assumptions and nurturing new understandings about the world we live in today.”    

Order it now from!  

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Speak For Me

Nothing speaks for me

Not a poem,
a note, or my
I just want to be heard:
a head nod
a hand touch
a heart throb
to let me know
you hear me
But you don’t
Instead, you listen
to them
like you do
Full eyes, full lips
mostly open arms
Greeting each one
But not me
I always, in all ways
held your baggage
opened doors
crossed the walk
to make sure you didn’t get splashed
but you just couldn’t see

Nothing speaks for me
Not 257 pages
or five volumes of poetry
or those 1,328 people
who mark themselves
my Friends
They are not here
to say a word
They don’t lay in my bed
Stare at my ceiling
Or dry the tears
I cried last night

Nothing speaks for me
So don’t judge me
by my actions
my words
or these grandiose ideas
That seem to fill
my head, my heart
look to your God to
give you grace
ease your conscience
heal your wounds
from the things you
convinced yourself
I had done

And when you’re eating
or drinking good wine
I will whisper to you
no more
Because nothing speaks for me
ever again




Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at

home home

I wrote this poem reflecting on my heritage and the place where I feel I belong.

home home

I don’t come
from ancient people or places
from bruises, scars, and stitches that
define my lineage

Father, guide me
Brother, hang out with me
Sister, read with me
Mother, sing to me
once more

resting from
lost battles
I was scared
hiding from
unseen ghosts


Mangoes and kiwis
summer called me out once more
fall came
serial rains fell once more

Daughter, come home to me
Friend, reach out once more
Love, I tried to forget who you were
once more

I am traveling home
every night I reach for my bed
only to have sleep escape me
once more


There’s no pathway home
there’s no journey abroad
there’s no sleep tonight
the days arrive with a dull light

slow dancing
in christmas lights
makes memories cold
and goosebumps rise

Searching to find restlessness
shadows crossed
our skin
No instant forgiveness
but a drawn out retreat


You Might Like…

Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at

Nadda Cowboy Blues

onwards, always

your wagon hitched to another horse
galloping away

as you ride
let me be clear

I’ll sit by this fireside
a cowboy guitar
rusty harmonica

mournful blues

if you could see my eyes
they’d plead for

sitting at the table
I showed my whole hand
every card in plain sight

if you’d shown me
we would still be together

out here on the prairie
in the blowing rain or
demanding sun

but I’m not a cowboy
and your horse
is gone



Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at

Y’all Can’t Catch Me

Adam’s Note: This is a poem I wrote in 1997. It reflects on experiences I had as a youth and the realities some young people face today.

Y’all Can’t Catch Me

Pushed pavement, feet swelling, sweat drips and brings
Cicada calls, night heat and too low cars scraping on shitty streets

bass, bass, bass, 3am wake up call was windows rattling
Scary shit: house robberies and running home from gun shots

Blood dripping, bruised eyes and a cut near my gut
“Did you get jumped again?!”

I didn’t
but somehow the ghosts still came flooding in

Adrenaline mixes the bad taste in my mouth everyone was just trying to make it
Except the cops, chasing us after rocks hailed onto the interstate

Except Rob ‘n them; couldn’t catch me. A whole summer spent running
Pedaling fast, I got away a few dozens times

When I couldn’t, I got got and it hurt
Now, these nights when I get away I go home

Wipe the sweat from my brow and smell my flower garden
Calming, I rest on my chair, sip tea, and write poetry

Its all different now no matter what those ghosts say
Y’all can’t catch me

You Might Like…

Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at

The Internet is America

The Internet is America
and I founded a small village
in the Plains.

The largest cities are
and some other things

Interstate highways,
the I-whatevers,
are data speeds
that don’t go many places

A Walmart at every interchange
is the same as ads in search results
telling me
to shop here

Cheap entertainment
keeps drivers driving across the web
Games, porn, and shopping
Are casinos, strip clubs, and shopping

Logging on is
turning the key
Closing down
is like the garage




Suffering Love Laughing At Myself is the first poetry book of Adam Fletcher Sasse and is available at