selective blindness…

outside post office
holding a sign and a child
no one reads the sign
no one even turns a head
nation refuses to see

 

meditating on a closed homeless shelter…

 

the brown bag prophet
said
i live
in
the empty spaces
life’s
denied
moments
where eyes
avert
and
prayers
fall on deaf ears
i’m
not alone
there are
children
and
their parents
in
these spaces
parents
of
all sorts
atheists
bible thumpers
and
those confused
by
god’s words
and
his deeds
as
well
as
certified heroes
and
criminals
those ungainfully employed
and
otherwise destitute
by
their attempt
at
existence
all
forming
society’s sediment
sediment
along
these streets
paved
with human gold
and
blood diamonds
diamonds
worn
no doubt
as
symbols
of
heaven’s stars
but
more likely
as
hell’s burning embers
but
who’s to say
not those
of us
living
in
the empty spaces

 

common core standards..

common core standards

i was quite
surprised
to see
aunt bea
working with a calculator
and several
large
national maps
so
i inquired
as to why
aunt bea
said
i’ve been
working on
an idea
of how to
address
all those
homeless
school children
we
just
empty out a city
that’s equal
to their numbers
i’ve done my research
and
it appears
that we will need
to evacuate
san diego
california
cuz
it’s about the right size
for there’s
over a million
homeless children
attempting
to learn
the
common core
on empty stomachs
while sleeping
here and there
and
sometimes
nowhere
so
let’s get
those san diegans
packing
now
where
to put their parents

home sweet home…

the night’s silence
was shattered
by the sounds
of her daughter’s
arrhythmic
heart beat
a sound
usually masked out
by the screeching screams
of the trains
as they re-carved
their way underground
to every part
of the city
she could even
hear the transformer
that served
as their heater
as it struggled
to keep up
with the pull
for current
from the buildings above
strangely
there were no
voices
or
shuffling feet
scurrying through
the metallic jaws
of the trains
just sounds
she could barely
remember hearing
in all these years
that this chamber
has been their home
rising from the mat
of old newspapers
she peered around
the columns
it was empty
gone were
the panhandlers
who shared
their profits
with her
when her daughter
posed as their
starving child
gone were
the well dressed
business types
and
the
wanna-be-a-rich man types
there weren’t
even
any police
water was quickly
entering the tunnel
the world
must have ended
pulling her daughter
to her feet
they ran to the stairs
but there were bars
blocking the exit
they were trapped
the water
grew deeper
reaching
the transformer
the safe shelter
she had sought
from
social sneers
was soon
to become
their
mausoleum