Gears

Make everything all right by switching gears
When motoring downhill. Going downhill
Is what we're used to, but we've had our fill,
So downshift now, and overcome your fears
Of unknown turns. Turn now! For fifteen years
It's been just up down up down up until —
Were going off the road! Shut up! Sit still
And let the blown-out airbags dry your tears.

Now we've forgotten how to tell a lie,
In spite of all our practice, which is vast,
The unwanted truth coming out, at last,
And I'm not sure we're even going to try.
We're changing gears again. I don't know why.
Just how far are we going, and how fast?

Distant Cries

We've been devoted to the ballot box,
Maintaining confidence in private rooms
With little curtains, like inviting wombs
Where good decisions grow, but mental blocks
Have interfered. It was unorthodox:
We've reached an era of weird sonic booms
And empty threats, of old friends and new brooms,
Of fruitless trauma and decisive shocks.

The mandate hasn't been reliable,
Because the masses have believed in lies,
Watched their TVs while truth turns tail and dies.
While we're being told that facts are pliable,
Some attitude is undeniable:
Reality is heard in distant cries.

A Working Song

I won't say that I've been alone too long.
I've been alone, but I can stand alone
As long as I can stand. I'm made of stone,
Unbreakable, a million mountains strong.
I have a dream, I've got a working song
About six thousand miles along the bone
As deep as winter firelight. I have known
The touch of fear, the elements of wrong.

Don't call, don't visit, and don't think of me.
I'm walking on a solitary path
Made up of heartbreak, certainty, and wrath,
And no big babies are supposed to see
What's coming (nothing's beautiful or free):
We'll give the babies, and the dreams, a bath.

Plaint

Yes, all my days and nights were filled with yearning,
As they are still. As they were still, always,
As they will always be. There were some days
Of studying orthography and kerning,
Some nights when passions, urgent, dire, and burning,
Were spent, but that was always just a phase
Between desire and more desire, a blaze
No smothering could quench, always returning.

I have known gentleness, and gratitude,
I have known kindness, and a sort of grace.
Some touches have put sweet smiles on my face,
There has been, now and then, an interlude
Of blessed sweetness. Would it be too rude
To ask for one more night in your embrace?

Dare

You might dare anything: announcing grief
At celebrations, trusting all your goods
To thieves, gamely providing every thief
A hideout, a sweet cabin in the woods.
You might dare one thing, one distinctive thing,
Protecting women from your troubled peers,
Reflecting on your own brass wedding ring,
Pretending there was no weight to the years.
You might dare something wafting in the breeze,
A wicked choice, or an endearing ploy,
Releasing friends and enemies from these:
Incisiveness, decisiveness, or joy.
You might dare all with one uncertain breath,
And say a word that can't be unsaid: