poems

Sleeping Gods, Sleeping Demons

What the Heart Holds

I pledge allegiance
to the economy

to the Economy
that hides
behind the flag

of any given
nation

like the
stars and
bars

Oh. Wait.

like the
stars and
stripes

like somehow we
care for people
and rocks and
birds
and trees and
corn and
bread
instead of

for the Dow
for the dollar

for what does,
by chance,
that flag stand for?

I pledge allegiance
to the shred
of privilege

I might find here in
the land of
the free
market.

I pledge allegiance
to the proper
wealth of the
high and mighty
who bought low
and sold high

brought low,
sold high

and who sold
out

the rest
who live
and breathe
and matter.

Learning the Shape of Loss: #COVIDera Edition

What the Heart Holds

A spot of bleach
blossoming on a
new shirt

an old dog’s
eyes that swell
and shut

the time before
“social” met  “distancing”

Told to stay
home we could
not sleep

Two women
fighting in the
cleaning products
aisle

laughter dropped
by 9% with kindness
trailing as the
market for
contentment
opened down
sharply
overseas

A grievous deficit
of touch

If he’s dying
but not from
coronavirus
does it even
count?

I was
going to . . .
Oh. 

Masking tape
with grungy,
peeling edges
announcing safe Xs
across the
floor

Told to stay
home their
dreams died
a little 

or more
than a
little

32 different plans,
including for
May 12

Some will
not eat

A thousand
in-person social
rituals
per
day

Time for perfect
poems

scratch that:
Time for perfect
anything

The empty
echo of
hymns
unsung

I couldn’t
visit you

Told to stay
home, they faced
greater dangers
there than
any virus 

it is only
death
after all

Kicking a drunk
man out of
church
because
he can’t
stand
back

Speaking of –
told to stay
home, they
had no
home

Oh no
not her

The brainspace
taken up
by
Zoom knowledge

All sense of what
day it is

A significant part
of our
ever-loving
minds

The memory of
the last time
we went
there
before
this
all
happened.

 

 

Easter and the Capitalist Resurrection

What the Heart Holds

Never mind that
you are gasping
for breath
and still
contagious.

Come sunrise
on Resurrection Day,
you will surely see
the (dollar) signs
gathered
round the
idol’s outstretched
grasping
hand

No stone of
conscience
to roll
away

Christ, the
Market is
Risen
today.
Ahhhh
le
lu
YEAH
we are
back in
business

All Hail the
Power of
Preserv’d
Profit as
Elijah and
Moses
would surely
agree.

Lord we lift your
Golden Calf
on high

Up from the
Grave the
Economy
Arose and
We All
Rejoiced

Human Condition, 2020 – Part I

What the Heart Holds

I started the day
with a poem
which got interrupted
by something,
important,
that got
interrupted,
which then was
interrupted
by something
important
that got interrupted
by something
else,
important,
leaving me
late to
where I was
supposed
to be.

Several
interruptions
followed. 

And then came
more
important
interruptions
stacked
one
on
top
of
the
other.

Facing west,
late (again)
to the next
important thing,
the sunset
stretched orange
across the
full sky,
interrupting
my hurry,
leaving me
breathing,
with my poems
tucked neatly
in my pocket
til there is time.

 

The Not Cult of Not Celebrity

What the Heart Holds

History has forgotten
those I admire
most. Even I
can’t call
their names.

People of the daily
who because it
needed to be done
tended wounds,
spoke truths,
opened doors to
hungry people,
appreciated beauty
and found it often,
lived lightly
on the Earth,
flinched not while
challenging
brutality,
or flinched,
but remained
steadfast anyway,
sang with abandon,
died when
it was time.

Deeds undocumented
by any textbook.
No image
for posterity.
Nothing left counted
by the common
measures of man.

They who mended the world
over and over again,
alive in the not-known.

Go Fourth

What the Heart Holds

I cannot celebrate a
country so relentlessly
rich in willful
oblivion concerning the
suffering upon which
it was built
back then

Back then
meaning centuries
decades
yesterday

Back then
meaning
an hour
ago

Today I celebrate instead –

the open hearts of so many
genuine kindness found in passing
radical solidarity with
exiles from domination’s favor

the art of rejoicing at beauty
those who give in to the
weighty gifts of mutuality
good books

days spent in honest work
the courage of witness
in the face of power
friends who think with me

this one ripe peach

In the Shadow of Honky Tonk Central

What the Heart Holds

Half a crowded block
away I heard him

Tourists seeking
downtown drinks
and country covers
no match for his
volume:

“WHORE!”

That much
I caught
before sight
of the pair

Her head down,
with what?
fear, shame,
or the sure
certainty that hope
has no place in
hell here

His body vibrating
with noisy rage

Yet together
they walked,
breaking stride only

beside me,
ignored with effort
by every single soul
especially the sidewalk cop
bouncer taking no note of my
desperate wish that he would
fix things
send this man
on his way 

as he keeps
smashing words
walking away
          coming back for more

smashing words
walking away
          coming back for more

smashing words
walking away
          coming back for more

Rage in a torn green t-shirt

They are dirty, lean, distant
even in the crowd

A world within some
private
compelling
hell

I have nothing to offer
No answers
protection
dollar bills
wisdom
magic
not a useful thing
except to stop and stand
praying that
he will not turn again
she will cross the
street and
go
away

Knowing the feel of fists
I can’t leave and
can’t do a thing
but choke on
dry words of fervent
pleading

Go
away

Either one of
you

East
North
or
an angled move
with the light
and the crush of
people
oblivious by intent

There I stand
feet leaden
muttering silent
prayers as –
finally –
gravity tugs him
toward the river and
she turns
swallowed in neon
and vanishes
into the night.

Ash Wednesday

What the Heart Holds

I sat with a
suddenly dead man
for three hours
beside his partner of
28 years who
doubled over
like the doctor
had just
punched him
instead of
offering apologies and
soft words.

‘I had someone to die’
I had to
tell the
homeless man
I couldn’t
drive to get
his phone
though I said
I would.

Texted the lost child
gone home
to her
hateful parents
because
she still
craves their love
so bad she’s been
snorting heroin
as a substitute.
Don’t worry,
she said, I didn’t
inject it.

One man had a stroke
and didn’t tell me
but he’s home I hear.
Another I went to visit
but couldn’t see
past the swarm of nurses
torturing him
to re-place the
feeding tube
his wandering
hands found.

Ashes and dust
water and spirit.

Another school shooting.

No poetry there.

Only blood that
drowns us in our sins.

Create in me a clean heart,
O God

So I can do it all again
tomorrow.

Amen

The Time It Takes to Decide

What the Heart Holds

I left a homeless man across town

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it and he asked me to

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it and he asked me to and I had time

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it and he asked me to and I had time and I didn’t have any other ideas for him

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it and he asked me to and I had time and I didn’t have any other ideas for him and I gave him bus fare in case he needed to get back

I left a homeless man across town at a rescue mission that might not have a bed but he wanted to try anyway because he knows the guy that runs it and he asked me to and I had time and I didn’t have any other ideas for him and I gave him bus fare in case he needed to get back and a small red umbrella because it
started
to
rain.