FATHER
Father
When I asked you
If our brethren
Had started the war
You told me the truth
A pitch roof
Is bad for missiles
Father
The speaker
Had the eyes
Of a dog
And you sat
Next to me
I felt so proud
And the lecturer
Scratched his beard
Father
Again you were with me
And the federal judge
Ruled in favor
Of children
In favor of happiness
In favor of the future
Father
How I admired you
That day when
Your gorgeous opponent
Tried to seduce you
To persuade you
To influence you
With her exquisite touch
But you did not released
Your harvest
Father
And the city looked more beautiful
And I was struck with contemplation
Looking at the river
Through the window
In the skyscraper
Father
You were always
So kind in church
And so fierce
At work
Father I came to understand
And to love
Your choice of diets
How happy I was
When our community
Ate together and
I saw you
Slicing pieces of ham
Father
You made me
You thought me
You inspired me
And you terrified me
With things I did not understand
And you were so strong
How did you get so strong?
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
SELFISHNESS
Taxi drivers
And a middle age prostitute
With school supplies
In her hands
Assembled like
A heard of cattle
With mad cow disease
Gathering of champions
At God’s threshold
Luminaries of decay
Factories of poisoned visions
Waiting for time travel
Waiting for the truth
Waiting for the unknown
Waiting for anything but this
Their journey
Will not begin with
A secret government machine
Nor with the magic
Of shamans or witches
Or Pentecostal frenzies
Or mystical steps
Or Hollywood’s New Age
Their last card
Will be pulled from under the table
From under their sleeve
From the deep
From the dark
From the place
Where the sobbing starts
From the energy of a wolf
Leaking his own blood
On a sharp knife
From everywhere but here
The middle-class ones
Will pull the trigger
The rich ones
Will slid their wrists
In a bathtub
With boiling water
The poor will use a rope
But this will not workIt will break
It will give in
To the weight
Of their failings
They will hit the floor
The stronger ones
Will attain concussions
The weaker ones
Broken bones
Taxi drivers
And a middle age prostitute
With school supplies
In her hands
Assembled like
A heard of cattle
With mad cow disease
Gathering of champions
At God’s threshold
Luminaries of decay
Factories of poisoned visions
Waiting for time travel
Waiting for the truth
Waiting for the unknown
Waiting for anything but this
Their journey
Will not begin with
A secret government machine
Nor with the magic
Of shamans or witches
Or Pentecostal frenzies
Or mystical steps
Or Hollywood’s New Age
Their last card
Will be pulled from under the table
From under their sleeve
From the deep
From the dark
From the place
Where the sobbing starts
From the energy of a wolf
Leaking his own blood
On a sharp knife
From everywhere but here
The middle-class ones
Will pull the trigger
The rich ones
Will slid their wrists
In a bathtub
With boiling water
The poor will use a rope
But this will not workIt will break
It will give in
To the weight
Of their failings
They will hit the floor
The stronger ones
Will attain concussions
The weaker ones
Broken bones
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
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