Thursday, April 25, 2013

I Woke Up This Morning

I woke up this morning
with a poem in my head.
It's gone.
It has gone to you;
please send it back.
I don't remember it,
but you will, you will know it.
You will send it back.
But keep it long enough
to remember
to remember
to remember.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Teenage Angst Tonight

Tired of the constant pundit chatter,
I gave up.
I turned off the news and turned
to the classic movie channel.
Two kids in love,
two gangs at war,
three dead at the end.
"West Side Story."
Still tragic, but
better music.
Still teenage angst.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013


"All of the ills of mankind, all of the the tragic misfortunes that fill the history books ... have arisen merely from a lack of skill at dancing."

Dancing after disaster;
it seems counter to what must be done.
But you can pray while dancing,
you can ask your god
to accept the dance;
you can dance
for those who no longer can.
You can even stand still.
But moving, running, suddenly helping
was what the day was about.
I cannot run a marathon, but I can dance.
And this is what a man with a bomb
could not do,
lacking the skill at dancing.

Friday, April 12, 2013

I am Awake

one day
I'll be the man who sleeps
through everything.
Until then;
I am awake.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Called or uncalled

Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit.

Marx or Aphrodite
Tehran or Jerusalem
Boehner or Barack 
Pyongyang or Seoul
Guns or Butter
The conflict doesn't matter;
whether asked or not,

our better self
turns on a simple gesture.
An open hand, that holds nothing.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Upon Watching A Favor'd Rock Band

(With apologies to Walt Whitman)

Bust the skins of the drum!
Bend the mike stand in two!
Burn the Stratocaster!
Remove the screws from the speakers!
Burn the speakers themselves!
And drop the mike on the stage
once there is nothing left to be said!

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Nightly News

When did the news become
a puppet theatre? Long time ago,
but not many noticed
the hands behind the talking heads.
Now the puppets
are showing wear on
their paper mache',
but the hands
keep moving, moving.