Category: Thoughts

Memorial Day Apology

Monday is Memorial Day. Automobile races and ball games happen, sure. But Memorial Day is mostly set aside for solemn remembrance of the brave heroes who lost (gave?) their lives to the United States military so the rest of us can enjoy all the benefits of being citizens of the greatest country on Earth. We...

Mantra for Artists

Figure out the best thing you can share with the world. Then figure out the best way to share it. The road is long, so long that it never really ends at a final destination. Your job is to stay on the path. Authentic humility requires acknowledging that you are gifted and touched by the...

Leadership Litmus Test for White Boys Who R Considering Voting for Hillary When the Rainbow Coalition Isn’t Enuf

Some of our more famously progressive friends — those who self-identify as conscious, liberal, rights-minded pacifists, including “smartest man in the world” comedian Greg Proops – are presently in a political pickle. They’ve pre-declared themselves as Soldiers for Hillary, despite so many stains upon her record you might be persuaded that she was a key...

Poem: Invisible

The powerless feel invisible. A ghostly cipher jigs and shimmies, sending up flares, announcing the Annunciation.   The powerful seek invisibility. A malevolent cloud overhangs and shrouds, secreted in cracks, hidden from the light.   We evaporate and expectorate and obviate. No one sees everything.

Poem: Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope

We returned to each other, after a protracted absence of voluntary volubleness. We picked up the thread where it had been dropped, enmeshed in other narratives. The bicycle dance has not yet begun. The delectable debate over all that matters most or least will come. Maybe it has already begun without us talking heads fully...

Poem: Facts

  These are not theories, conjecture, reckless reckoning, supposition, hyperbolic hypotheses crooked as a triangle untangled by Isosceles. These are facts. Yet many of us prefer to pretend instead that the precise contrary is not a fairy tale but a fairly stale debate over which the irrational fantastical religious folks can masturbate. So I shall spell...

Poem: That Time of Day

  It’s that time of day, when military gunship helicopters come out to play supplanting finches, towhees, sparrows with rotors roaring over urban gardeners with hearts-a-soaring, proletariat peasants ignoring our deplorable genetics, our feeble marrows, cryptic codes prophesizing a frenetic fate, a Golden Plate that cannot obviate the sordid truth: few of us will be a Clarence Darrow....

Poem: Our Sober Friend

What’s the point of being sober, he wondered if you still behave like a narcissistic drunk? Wouldn’t it be better for everyone, including him, if nothing really changes or changed? He could stay rooted in the toxic swamp that fed him amply, bloating his self-loathing to inoperable proportions. He should drink, he should be a...

Poem: Runners

When you’re paranoid schizophrenic bi-polar crazy, living by day at bus stops and sleeping at night nobody knows where, getting normal folks to listen, to pay attention to the truth of your Truth, is almost as hard as keeping yourself clean.   Property owners. Cars, houses, purses, devices, wallets full of cards. They’re in a...