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Month: June 2024

good morning sunshine

I thought serendipity was a dragon.
Now I wonder if it's God.

Or is it a lush garden where quiet minds go to rest?

Premise: the universe is an equation.
(I dislike negations. I avoid using negations.)

Action, reaction.
Reflection.
Focus.
Shift
the
angle
of dispersion
by a single degree and arms
open to encompass your desires.

Swing and a miss!

Monkey bars decode no drama
thinner than a fingernail
slipped beneath
the edge
of
the
horizon.

I lift my eyes.
Breakthrough

cloud cover parts to reveal green leaves
and a street sign, the rushing by of
could haves and never weres.

I turn to you, and we meet
once more, where
we are, one,
doubled,
and
let joy
call us home.

June 9, 2024

the littlest one cries out

The pale soft things regurgitated
by blind cave-dwellers float
among the wreckage,
bobbing as the drain
burps, colorless
fluids pickled
clean of
spiked
proteins slip
away beneath
flood lamps
hiding

monstrous
agitators, mouths
agape in devouring
grins to slurp up a soup
of mismatched uncradled
components,

doll's legs,
pippin toes,
tiny translucent nails,
threads of peach fuzz,
unskinned onion layers,
blind beads and
snail shells,

nameless fragments unloaded
by steady professional hands
that were once nubbins
themselves, divided
now by an ocean
of sanctified
glass and
steel,

an anesthetic to forget

the unnumbered wavelengths
that have passed through
flesh in watery echoes
through every
generation
to
comfort
the bottled
souls swiming
inside their
unique
folds
of
space
and time,

each one
reaching out
to grasp air and sun
and a voice he recognizes
as belonging to him
and him
alone,

until today.

this one among a million
tethered lineages
reaches into
the future
to grasp
only
darkness,
genetic fealty
become a constricting
throb of want, an
excess of need
directed
out-
ward,

a
last
beseeching
cry to the one
he recognizes as
his and his alone

is met with silence,

unholy exchange,
trading blood purge
for unfathomable loss,

such a pitiable thing!

him and her, broken
as the world is broken,

insides spilling out into space,

a crucifixion pinned to a scarecrow
keeping vigil over a barren field,

a scapegoat flayed alive by
the parasite's tongue,

a wound that ruptures

mother from child,
child from family,
family from race,
race from nation,
nation from God.

bow your heads!

the littlest one cries out,
unrelieved, unavenged,
unremembered,

no stone for
his littlest
grave,

no eulogy for
his littlest
life,

no mark for
his littlest
bud
on
the
branch,

bow your heads!
the littlest one cries out,

a calf butchered in the name
of the red heifer
that drives
the world
to its
knees with
unending terror,
a notch in the bedpost
of esoteric wizards whose
hate for the human race
knows no bounds,
a morsel of
pristine
unsullied life
savored piecemeal
by vulpine thieves armored
about with grifters hiding beneath
a thousand thousand names.

how vast a power it is to slaughter
the child of your enemy before
he can even be born!

bow your heads!

you, woman!
your womb opened first by the grace
of natural order, second by the filthy
claws of demonic deceivers,

who told you that killing a child
was liberating,

who told you that killing a child
was healthcare,

who told you that your mass of cells
was superior to his mass of cells,

will you stab him yourself, prick his littlest
heart through with your own cowardly needle?

will you pry open his littlest mouth and pour
in the poison that stops up his blood?

will you cut off his sustenance and watch
his littlest body starve, denied the natural
birthright that you and you alone are
granted the gift to provide?

bow your head!

even that littlest single cell reaches backwards
into each mother monkey's unbroken
mitochondrial legacy, a telescoping
panorama of genetic victors
that requires no
heartbeat, that
transcends
all
mechanical
means of creation,
that cannot be broken
except in death,
and

is yours and yours alone
to bequeath.

so
bow your heads.
honor and receive truth.

bow your heads beneath
the weight of this
humiliation
ritual
that has
claimed our
ancestral inheritance
and left us as we were.

alone.

alone,
until we reach out into the darkness
and recognize each other as ourselves.

alone,
until we pass through fear and
recognize our enemy as our enemy.

alone,
until the littlest one cries out and
his voice resonates through millennia
to touch our primal hearts.

alone,
until no compromise slices through
the bonds that have defined us
since our first origin.

alone,
until hands that would destroy
enclose instead, to comfort,
to shield, to guide, to love,
to bloom with.

alone,
until the breath of liberty fills our lungs
and we lift our voices to
speak the truth,

to honor
nature and God,
as a family, as a nation.

So,
bow your heads.

Be humble,
pay attention,
notice,

and
have faith
that we will come home.

Together.

June 9, 2024

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