Originally posted 4/10/2013.

Some have, some have not.
Those who have, keep;

those who do not have
do not know they likely never will.

Occasionally someone who doesn’t have
will be allowed a taste

via lottery number, a great arm,
a pleasant singing voice.

They let you think
you can get some too — 

hard work, they say, hard work
will do it and anyone can rise;

but not anyone rises.
Those allowed to rise do,

and those allowed to rise
learn how to keep

the little they’re
allowed to keep.

Your job is made to leave you
jealous and striving.

Your leisure is a stunted ration
of your small time here

and when you come home
to cradle that son or daughter,

you whisper that it will be
better for them —

but it likely will not be.
All that gold

will blind them as swiftly
as it blinded you.

Everyone thinks they’ll be rich someday.
Everyone thinks it’ll be better someday

while the oil runs out,
the seas lift from their beds,

the bridges fall sooner rather than later.
The whirlwind spins a noose over our necks.

Some of you still think love
will make it better.

You will be fooled again and again
into believing that love will win.

Love cannot win
in the long sunset of this age.

We have exhausted ourselves.
Love is nothing more than a gesture now.

You’ll still sit back and say it was better once.
You’ll imagine a time when love was enough.

But love has never been enough
to conquer this.

What’s always been needed
is a terrifying justice. 

Gaia is preparing
a terrifying justice:

one swipe of her hand,
and we are gnats full of blood

who cannot rouse themselves
to fly.

You want a golden age?
Get rid of the gold

ahead of that sweeping hand.
Learn to fly for your life.

Land in something new.
It will not be called America.

If when you land you want to try love,
then by all means try it,

but do not expect it
to grow in this soil

so full of gold,
blood, and lies — 

not without
a cleansing fire.

Originally posted 3/24/2012.

America
I wish you could see Death
as I do

As wave of star enveloping
As wave of earth encompassing
As wave of wind embracing
And the next minute
moment
second
instant it must be —

not this
Not This
As NOT THIS
as any moment ever

All I want to know about that moment
I cannot know
so I sit here
speaking of Death
waiting for Death
with fingers tapping

Damn this notion of having to wait
You wait as you will
I will be not be calm and resigned
I will instead call for tacos and pizza
and meats and cigarettes
to be delivered unto me
for those are American foods of Death

and in this country devoted
to living forever
I am starving for Death

In this country
devoted to living forever
I believe in live and let live
but I also don’t care
how anyone dies

Do you think that is awesome
or troubling or false
Am I now riding a wave
of your suspicion

America I wish you could see Death as I do
As wave of the star enveloping
As wave of the earth encompassing
As wave of the wind embracing us
whispering

come as you are

This is not the customary
way of Death
in America
Death is considered
a mistake
a justice
or an honor
We greet it
with a keening of grief
or a holler
and chorus
and cadence of joy 

There are such vigilante songs
in your heart
America
You don’t care how we die
as long as the lettuce stays crisp

I am wearing the mask
of a wave all-encompassing
but if I tear this mask off
and look at you hard
with the right kind of gaze
between glare and adore
perhaps I shall then learn
how the rockets and twilight
lead to dawn’s early light

Till then
don’t be surprised if
we don’t care
how you die 
as long as it makes sense
in the moment of Death
as long as it closes
the long running plot