Menu

He refers

He refers to his thoughts
with his thoughts, the I of him
enigmatic—In death’s face we
who live go on, pick ourselves up,
scream and go on—The critic’s task
is to find our best works—Works he
doesn’t need to fully understand

What grounds your I?
He thinks that if he’d been a we
and she’d grown old with him then
she wouldn’t be like she is now to him,
all wrinkly, saggy and dry—She’d
still be hot, juicy, buoyant, lusty—
still lovely in his eyes, alive

We continuously revolt against
rigid thinking imposed by those
more primitive than ourselves
What if your friendly guard dog
turns into a self-ravaging, snarl of an
inhumane beast?—Like a ghost who
becomes an aftermath of scars  

Luck, patience, skill and money
That’s what we need to make it here
What if your body won’t recognize
itself?—All of life’s related, all if it
stems from the same primal cells
“Oh Sheila is so brave—in so much
pain she still sits with us on the porch

all bundled up, conversing, with
her cup of hot tea” Mom thought
that a ridiculous sentiment—“I’m
dying, so what do they think I might
do, curl up by myself in some hole?”
A memory stack of the old—remnants
of little things course past

“Having Covid-19” said the star,
“is different than recovering from nasty
injuries, getting evicted, or being broke
all of which I’ve been there a few times”
I don’t get along with those
willing to be told what to think
Power is an intoxicant, the more

you have it, the more you need
Hitler and his terrorist thugs
admired that American knack for
maintaining an air of robust innocence
in the wake of mass lynchings, tortures,
ugly forced horrific labor—The blood
of endemic American oppression

It confused them, though, that this
treatment didn’t also extend to
American Jews—“Shouldn’t they also
be oppressed, brutalized, beaten and
despised, just like those Blacks?”
Democracy fails in a wave of
mass stupidity, stoked in power

Pat would go into the ocean tenuously,
stand in front of the ocean waves and try
to hold herself up as the waves smacked
her down—Too shy to try and leap over
them, too scared to dive under them—
What might it mean to us on any fine day
to be truly loved and authentically alive?

-September 5, 2020-