Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Astrological Event

The argument that we were having stopped
When you decided to invoke the stars,
While I insisted hotel minibars
And kitchen floors incompetently mopped
Meant more to me than bald assertions, chopped
And stirred together, boiled in samovars
Like weak tea, and weird comments on how Mars
Determined where my grandmother had shopped.

My granny always shopped where things were cheap,
Except when buying kitchen mops or shoes.
She liked hot jazz, folk music, and the blues,
Enjoyed strong tea, black bread, a good night’s sleep,
And wading in the ocean, earned her keep,
And was imprisoned twice for her strong views.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

What Daniel Thinks

I smell a rat, he said. Explain again
What happened to my friend Abednigo,
A man too nice to follow in the flow
Of this society, who had a yen
For justice and for good, and for all men.
There was a fiery furnace; did you know?
What villain thought it would be fine to throw
My friend into harm's way thus? And what then?

A lion's den would be less dangerous,
But if you read the writing on the wall
You'll find it says rude things about the Fall
And warns you not to make a holy fuss
About the way that Fate has treated us.
Abednigo knew that, as do we all.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Poison or Bad Food

Infanticide, derision, and a frown
Are not equivalent. Discriminate,
Between forepaws and hands, dislike and hate,
Between a wicked soldier and a clown,
Between dissent, attack upon the crown,
And fear. Bad food or poison, what you ate
Will certainly affect the tender state
Of your digestion, but what did you down?

Who knows what distance we should put between
Catastrophe and something wonderful,
Between God and the irresponsible,
But I can name mistakes that I have seen.
I thought the sea was turquoise. You said green,
And called me fatuous, a criminal.

Monday, June 04, 2007


At least I'll say it was an education,
Distressing as it was. I'm not immune
To sweet remarks, fantastic and jejune,
That I'm certain to rise above my station
To acclamation, thence to lead the nation,
But deep inside I know that heady tune
Rings false, and seems as likely to impugn
As raise me past my present elevation.

What's past might have been prologue, long ago,
But now the future is a vacant lot,
A space between the night and a vague thought.
Whatever you were asking, I don't know.
I sang the old songs, watched the river flow,
Pretended we were all still friends. We're not.