So the lower river came to flood stage
The river rose until it could find no more banks
And then it spilled over into our streets
It drowned cars, dogs, homes
And the people upstream from us
Did not care that we were broken and wet
Did not care that we were hungry and cold
Did not care that we were dying

So the lower river came beyond its limits
The upper river stood by and shook its head
As it poured out upon us unthinking of our grief
The upper river masses shook their unthinking heads
They did not care about anger or grief
They did not care that we felt alone and chilled through
They did not care about how we bent down for rocks
To throw at them when we came to it at last

So the upper river changed its mind about us
As the lower river rose in a raging red tide
As we fell upon them with nothing to lose
As we rose toward them in a storm of bodies
They fell to our boulders upon the earth underneath
They rose in the daytime and cowered at night
And the air rejoiced as the water receded
And they had fallen below the line and had drowned

They had drowned unthinking with us up above
Left us alone with our thoughts and the grief
Of sharing the world with the dead until we joined them
Of sharing the world with our own dying

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T

Everyone, ask the world
for mercy, ask this planet
for forgiveness;

turn your face to the stars,
forget definition and transition
and just let things be;

in the universe there are more
startling and lovely places than this
and everyone ought to know them;

there are places more tender, more
sweet to the touch, and right here
is where we get to know their worth;

if you know their worth you will strive
to keep them close even if you fail,
even if you choke on the ash heaps;

should you fall before them
and you drown in their slightness,
their unworthiness, their triviality

you will still look up at the stars
and wonder at them, even as stormy men
slay you, even as the brutes come down

with perfected bullets and advanced swords
to take you apart they will turn away
from the slaughter and one by one

they will share your dream, will
cower before it; they will share your hearts
bursting then lying still;

they will go home to their children
after all is done; they will sit a long time
in the dark of living rooms

and wonder, if only for an instant,
only for a blink, how stars shone
within you as they stepped to the work

and let swords fall, let bullets ring,
let it happen instead of saying,
“no more. No, no more.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T

Leaving my rest to awaken
and see what will become
of us all.

Now, I could remain asleep and be
bewildered and bothered by it all
until my own departure

but the leaves are coming up
from the messy dirt and they
express an imperative:

you need to stay and see
whether anyone matters. So I stay
and watch and the birds change,

the weather changes, everything
in fact mutates and shifts back
to where it used to be

before the dreadful winter.
I’m not the same yet I am
similar, waiting for something

or anything different to happen.
Luminous clouds, the same yet different;
cruel men and women, the same

yet different. Still, I am
changed somewhat: like chewing
on tinfoil; like facing up to pain

unbearable and yet
bearing up to it as it bears down
like a wave on the sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T

It’s dark. A place
is set for breakfast,
or it’s left over
from last night
where it wasn’t used.
One car speeds down
the one way street.

The radio
spins a song about
Sally, who is now a cop
but used to be a soldier
and witnessed a massacre
back then.

I’m not really listening
to this one. I wasn’t listening
before it started, to be honest.
Massacres bore me when they are
somewhere else. There are love songs
that bore me equally, to be
equally honest. I prefer
instrumentals, to be brutally honest —
I don’t have to wring my hands
and fret the meaning or step out
and do a damn thing. To be
savagely truthful I am
too frightened to move much
beyond the couch or the doors
to the outer world. Massacres
abound out there, after all.

Another car turns down, speeds down
the one way street. I turn to see
dawn light between the slats
of the blinds. Dawn here,
perhaps a last dawn? I shrug
it off. It’s terrifically silent
for a moment
and then the radio comes on with
“Blue Bayou”
and wistfulness fills the dark room;
I shrug it off yet again. Sally
was a cop, dreams come true
on the bayou, the world moves
through its terror and here I am
alone in a scary day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T

You recall
the thin bark of stones
hitting you. You recall
silence at night.
You recall the transparent sneers
of the willing, how like sheep
you thought they seemed.

It is all happening
again, you know it is,
only it will be far more,
far more of the same.

Well,
it’s going to get
colder. There will be
more stones and sneers.
More sheep.
More wolves.

Bundle up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T