That old disrupter

That old disrupter,
our grown friend’s father,
came to visit her from Greece
one Christmas and at her annual party
(lots of loud talkers, good food, drinkers)
I had to sit close to him to hear
him talk and was glad that I did

White-haired, rotund, outspoken,
he was a photographer when younger
His bolder photographs
weren’t his favorites—I and
others, though, admired them best
He thought they overreached—
in truth, style and harshness

My brother, how can all these creatures
have life and you have none?
“One world at a time,” she says
His gifts assert his dominance
He found the fine things
he expected to find, like some
mad, successful, social climber

“Thank you, dear boy” she said
and with those words I agreed
for a time not to be grown-up
Friendship, loyalty, humane values
“All law is created by the victors
for the vanquished”
So we try it all again

Her spirit made such an appeal
to his that he couldn’t
see her for what she is
So many cool sweet summer days
Real love isn’t, but is always
associated with, a willful
kind of unconditioned blindness

The power to truly appreciate
requires taking the trouble to
decipher oblique sublimes,
to steer within textured moon-showers,
to feel an ecstasy both infinite
and cold as moonlight when
you’re sweetly invited in

Bottom down algorithmic series create
organic, successful, adept and
cunning creatures who haven’t any idea
as to what they are or do
But we do—
My ragtag brotherhood can embrace
all their worldly sorrows

Love, by definition, is unconditioned
Millions upon millions feel
childish, powerless
Hardened fighters can’t govern
and their leaders are vile,
dishonorable and dishonest
She lowers her head

to hide her sad wretchedness
Then, out of spite, she marries a clown
My little daughter grabs my leg,
hides behind it and peers curiously
at those benign strangers, my colleagues
All my old guides have died—now
I’m the patriarch—I’m the guide



-August 19, 2017-