I’ve been hearing Save the Rainforest
Since I was small enough to sleep
In the safety of my parent’s bed
Or snuggled with stuffed animals—
Pandas, giraffes, monkeys, frogs;
Atheism is not some sad doctrine
Insomniacs suffer, tossing in bed,
Mourning the death of those yet to die,
Composing frantic verses in the dark
This is where we come together,
Not before but after:
The blood already drained,
We refill it;
We never lack for blood to give.
I am so happy to announce that I was just accepted into the Master of Fine Arts in Poetry Program at Lindenwood University.
Last week 1,000 Jews and allies
Surrounded ICE Headquarters in protest
Chanting Never Again
Like a shofar sounding pain
From Auschwitz to Gulag to Mount Sinjar
Three Marches have come and gone
Like a public bus come to my street
Before giving up and moving on.
Each time I’ve seen them through windows
Fogged with the steam of my growing rage,
It’s a lovely March New England day,
40 with a high of 48.
My joints have grown stiff with winter,
But surely spring has time to spare!
Perhaps in April I’ll ride my bike.
A rock skips across the sky,
Leaves concentric circles of cloud
To wonder at.
It does not matter who lit the flame
That burned the Reichstag down,
Only that it burned and so few
Considered what cremation means
To those who long for proper burial.
In Ronda the cliffs are steep
And the waters mild so far as I recall;
Her sun sets on a landscape of olives and dust,
She swallows time in great gulps of oil and sky—