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Monday, May 28, 2012

Memorial Day - 2012



Dedicated to the Memory of The Project for The New American Century and In Honor of The Foreign Policy Initiative

Where shall we go:
Next.
Our interests are,
So many.
Limitless,
It seems.
We must shape
The world;
Our defense needs are
So great,
All else must bow before
Them,
Widows,
Orphans,
Bridges and roads.
Well,
Let us not go too far,
Let us not stop that
Unbroken,
Critical,
March of pork.
But every other citizen,
Every other need,
All that makes us
What we are,
Shall bow before
Those
Armies of Think Tanks,
Overflowing
With men,
Comfortable men,
They must be Comfortable
To Think,
Brilliant men,
No doubt,
All most serious
Chicken Hawks,
One and all,
Their advice?
Send your children,
Not their children,
Send them,
Send them
Wherever passions
Percolate,
Lest they percolate
To our disadvantage,
Let us shape events,
Shape them,
Make things safe
From democracy,
A beast so few understand,
(And fewer every year)
Best perhaps instead:
Build a wall about
Our freedom.
For sharing it with those
For whom it is
Incomprehensible,
Is a dread disease
In itself.
Of course,
Those who've fought,
Nearly to a man,
Know better than
These wise men,
But,
We don't consult them.
Thank you for your service,
Yes,
Quite.

A Veteran's Memorial Day Thoughts - 2012



March silent by me
For I finally sleep.
In life,
They made me march to music,
And those who never wore my colors
Called me hero.
Now,
I'm thankful that
I needn't hear their voices,
For I live within a land
Of eternal sleep,
Where only truth lives,
So we call each other
Only by
Our rightful names.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

A Meditation On The Death Of Osama Bin Laden


It's the first anniversary of Osama Bin Laden's death. A year ago, I awoke early to see, in the NY Times online edition, that Bin Laden had been killed. It seemed as if he'd been off our public psychic radar for a while, but not very far off, considering the unseemly demonstrations that broke out. At the time, I wrote and published this piece. The New Yorker, that bastion of superb, if incomprehensible poetry, understandably declined to publish it. I'm recycling it for the occasion.

Gotcha,
Sheik,
It took a while,
But most government
Jobs do.
You had a good run,
And died a lion
In many eyes,
Though a caged lion,
In a cage
Of your very own,
Behind walls of your own.
Didn't know
There was a breed
Of Seals
That went over walls,
Eh?
I wonder where
Your buddy Ayman went.
Perhaps it's safe
For him
To go home now,
Egypt,
Right?
Inshallah.
I saw the wild celebrations,
Outside the White House,
At Ground Zero,
At the Air Force Academy.
Once we had:
VE day,
VJ day.
We cheered then,
For the dying
Would stop.
What of VO day?
I thought VO was,
A whiskey.
The dying won't stop
For VO day.
What's all the cheering for?
Celebrating the death
Of one enemy?
As if we'd won
A war?
We should feel
Just a little dirty.
Let us thank
Those who did this
Most necessary deed
For us,
Then let us
Go about our business,
And leave them with
Their thoughts.
I think I'll stop by
The old Ebbitt Grill.
Maybe I can find
A chicken hawk,
To have a celebratory
Beer with.
Rest in Peace,
If you can,
Sheik,
With the fishes.
There are no virgins
At full fathom five.


Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Thoughts Upon a River Bank




I sat upon the river bank,
And stared,
Looking for my future
In a starlit sky,
Hoping to discern
My way,
The way to bring,
My fate to hand,
To arm myself
For what's to come.
Instead,
My tears wished
That my soul,
And all its troubles,
Might be washed away,
As the water that flows by,
So easy that
The Hand of God,
Might appear to carry it,
From here,
Down to the sea.

a place to go




i've had it with manhattan,
she said,
i'm moving to
wilmington,
delaware,
where the air is
rare.
well,
medium,
And a bit clear,
-er,
they have mini skyscrapers,
cute,
glassy,
pillars,
they don't reach
the sky,
they tower,
safely,
with us,
in wilmington,
it's just our size,
for now,
at least.



from an idea suggested by my wife while passing through wilmington
written on amtrak train 171, 23 apr 2012