"POLITICS"

In America


A child sitting on the edge of a cot
in the cell of a jailhouse;

his head droops into his folded arms,
the toes of his stocking feet
skimming the ground;

10 feet above his head is a slice of light
onto sky and barbed wire.

On someone’s sidewalk there are teddy bears
and candles, photographs and photographers.

In a hospice for dying children there is wailing,
there are caresses and prayer, hope
for an end to grievous pain.

Not in this cell, in this jailhouse
no candles, no caresses; a slice of light
onto sky and barbed wire.

SKETCHBOOK, 2009

==================================
Considering “Empire” by Kaplan – The Day After

Warm, always warm
every day, warm
not hot, never hot, warm
everyday, warm
every night

A bird, not an eagle
dozes on a railing,
a suspended railing
in danger of melting
into the smoky milk
of a triumphal arch

while smaller beings
too new to remember cold
poke, scamp about
in yellow light,
and plot

PROTESTPOEMS.org, 2009; GUYANAJOURNAL.com, 2010

2 LOVE POEMS

Old Age, Alone: A Love Poem


If I must live a long time
without you, I will grieve
but I will not mourn.

If no one of blood or brain
stops by to touch my face
or roll me into sunlight,

if no one is left to speak
to me as if I still exist
or nod at my babbling,

I will start the tape at August,
a hot afternoon, when your breath
questioned mine and our lust-

driven, love-drenched epic began.
I will dawdle over every frame,
mouth every syllable, until

the reel whips to its end. I will
sob and shake my head like a forlorn
beast; I may even call out your name.

And if I'm touched and rolled and
spoken to and heard, I'll wait
until they've gone to press my heart

and start my tape, again.

Comstock Review, 1997


===================================
Forever & Forever & Forever


"This is forever - we are in it now" - A. R. Ammons

What are you looking for, Beloved,
what do you seek?

Why ask me such questions, Beloved?
You are not as meek

and wide-eyed as you pretend to yourself
to be, a Byronic Don Juan,

sultry newborn, happy hostage
to your own innocent charm;

You know as well as I, your make-believe
Venus, that all my tricks

of seduction, my blinding beauty
are out of Kabala books.

And what does Kabala say, Beloved
what do the books say?

That forever is a pretty thought, Beloved
a thought we create

in our own image of unending love
and pleasure for as long

as we want to stay in this place, drawing
each other's breath, as long

as we want to promise, as long as we see
ourselves in each other's eyes,

in each other's sighs;
this is Forever, Beloved, it is now.


JerseyWorks.com – Summer/2008