the same time zone…

town_clock

these are not
discrete points
this year
from
the next
nor
from
the one
that preceded
they are
a continuum
of
war
hatred
and
greed
and
prayers
prayers
that
have no
endings
nor
answers
we pretend
for
a brief moment
celebrating
with
wine
and
kisses
that
what is coming
will be
different
a temporal oasis
an oasis
surrounded
by
the same desert
we were
just
wandering through
and
must
now
re-enter

once we were…

once we were...

the small space
between
his nightmares
and
his reality
has grown smaller
he no longer
stares out
his window
searching for
empty promises
to be fulfilled
nor
does he pray
anymore
he has grown
to realize
that whatever god
there may be
his lot in life
is not
a priority
for that god
or
any god
so why would he
expect
that his fellow man
would give a damn
to them
he’s
a homeless bum
not worthy
of
their consideration
for anything
just scrap paper
to be
swept away
before
morning rush-hour
but once
his hands
cleared the land
that fed them
then
they called him
an essential worker
till the land dried up
and
nothing could grow
the bank took his land
outstanding loans
the land still stands naked
hometown
a ghost town
and
he
a ghost
of
society

please select one…

 

of the following items
please
indicate
which
one
constitutes a national emergency
item 1
1 in 5 children
going to bed
hungry
everyday
item 2
having the highest
first-day death rate
in
the industrial world
item 3
providing services
to
260,000 veterans
diagnosed
with traumatic brain injury
item 4
addressing the needs
of
the 40+ million people
living below
the poverty level
item 5
preventing
the daily
20 suicides by veterans
item 6
building
a 15 – 25 billion dollar wall
because
of
an
i-want-it syndrome

 

dividend check…

 

you
ignore
your part
in
the slaughter
for
you cannot
hear
the captive-bolt gun
nor
feel
the confinement
of
the chute
pressing
against
your
skin

 

uncontrolled wildfires…

unable to breath
each day we’re suffocating
hate and fear’s wildfires
ravage our humanity
a burnt out shell-nation’s left

having found a dead man…

each day
he wandered down
to the adjoining furniture store
for
coffee
and
conversation
since both
the hotel
and
the furniture store
were owned
by
the same
family
he was
a widower
living
in a cheap hotel
a rather
gregarious old fellow
the kind
authors love
to
write about
in
stories
of
how sociable folks
are
more resilient
than
the uptight assholes
that
tend
to run government
after
a day
or
two
the manager
at
the furniture store
noted
he had not appeared
for
his morning brew
two of us
new staff members
were sent
to check up on him
after
several knocks
on the door
we let ourselves in
with
the master-key
he was in bed
and
quite dead
the first dead person
we’d
ever seen
he looked calm
but
somewhat bloated
by noon
the body had been removed
and
we were instructed
to
replace
the box springs
and
mattress

 

concurrent moments…

a child’s
body
effloresces
miles
from the nearest
oasis
no
sounds but the wind
and
dry sand
obscuring
the body
in
land
destroyed
by man
making it
a child’s grave yard
a drink
tasted
was sent back
with
appropriate
angry looks
of
utter disgust
since
it was
obvious
the martini
had
far
too much
vermouth
making it
undrinkable