Tonight I’ll dream that a colony of ants has dragged
me out to sea, where I discover my belongings and I
have become so much flotsam and jetsam.
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Correct Language Doesn’t Correct Injustice
February 27, 2021
Changing the language we use when speaking about injustice does not, in and of itself, overturn the injustice.
Be The Change
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philosophy
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Politics
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Prose
Funeral Procession
January 2, 2021
On a drizzly morning walk I stopped to let a hearse go by,
its pitch-black paint sweating polish, and as I waited
for the procession I thought about who profits from tragedy,
the business of loss, and who profits no matter what,
Blank
December 3, 2020
In Xinjiang, 7,000-miles
away, a morning sun, reflecting off the
glasses of early risers, the windshields
of commuters, is so bright as to redact
last night’s graffiti: Down with Xi.
If life is a lucid dream or some near-perfect
computer simulation, do I risk waking up
to a world in which I can’t embrace you?
A Love Sonnet Written on the Occasion of the Death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg
September 19, 2020
I want to touch what aches in us, the light
we guard to stay alive. My dear, come quick.
I hear a knock; I’m afraid. Is it you?
I dare to open and let hope come through.
Confessions of a Private Grief
September 6, 2020
I have lived as free as a fragrance on the wind,
as shackled to the earth as the vine that produced it.
May I confess in a poem what is forbidden us in prose?
Self-Made Man
May 24, 2020
I hire the police that protect my home from the hordes
that would tax me: I need nothing from the State, and so
give nothing to the State.
I just read that the virus is mutating, anti-vaxxers are joining other unsavory elements to protest public health measures, the president doesn’t see the need for mass testing but is now getting tested daily…
Be Wary of Sadness in Dark Times
November 23, 2019
I notice my parents’ aging as I do my own:
Not at all, then in a photo, all at once.