The Trump’s new spending bill represents the largest transfer of wealth from the poor to the rich since chattel slavery.
John walks slowly up the stairs
to my office every day. Between
four and four-thirty, after the bus
brings him home from day program
Consider these lilies, how
they’d never call themselves
broken simply because they
had to live in darkness
and cold for months
Pari covers up domestic violence when her brother beats up his 3 year old daughter.
Not the listless woods these days,
their ongoing summer song
same as the year-round sound in my head.
It’s fair to say that “groovy” has passed out of daily parlance. As words go, it was a bit silly, a bit mystic, a bit glib, a bit droll, a bit low-brow, a bit artless, and a bit wonderful. It spoke to an era and seemed, accordingly, germane to that era and almost sensible in its glad frankness.
I loved those mornings
of timeless simplicity.
I learned patience
is not something you work for
but something you wait for
I found out I had lived, before I was born,
in hard, sturdy, independent men, their own masters.
None of them knew what to say, so they just kept quiet.
Do you know what you’re doing?
and she said yes
though deep in her virginity
she knew nothing
but what she wanted
Hunger ––
I can’t hear the word
without my mind swinging to Gaza.
Now the mockingbird at the mulberry
and its mate on the fence pretend they’re crows
and their caws contend with the noise in my bones
Let us be like my friend Rick’s grandma,
who Rick remembers trotting alongside the car as his dad
drove him and his brother down the long driveway from
her house, tapping on a window until one of the boys
rolled it down so she could ask, “Did you get enough pie?
The results could be catastrophic, especially in states that have experienced unprecedented fires in recent years.
as the late noise of traffic, of shrill birdsong,
dies away, do I always recall
those brief summers, when the old folks
reclined in the grass on the hill