Cry for us Argentina

Dirty Wars
Jesuit priest
allowing torture
and death of his own people
and the walls keep tumbling down
he said / she said
“Let our children go.”
even St. Francis
hangs his head and cries.

Argo, the Ship of Starch

.

Hollywood Argo creators
are like starching a shirt
good till you start sweating
then limps away drowning
in their lies we DO know
why hostages were taken in Iran
and American’s Secret Government
that disposed Iran’s duly elected leader
and Ronald Reagan’s per-election deal
that the hostages would not be released
until he won and Iran/Contra:
“drugs for arms”
THAT dog has no tail to wag

history
may be written by the victors
but time, given,
writes the truth

now the victims want reparations
and i say, “go to the house on the hill,
they, and only they, owe you(.)

good old days

of good old medicine

In these good old days
I tell myself out loud
what to do
and
it’s not my mother’s voice
yet is an evolution thereof…

New movie coming out: “Are we alone?”

He said he put his heart at risk
She said it always is.

if there is a we how do we feel alone?
mostly not, some say
someone still likes my tobacco breath
a goldie in these good old days.

how to let W. S.
Merwin know, and i want to,
it takes me and Mary Jane
to grock…
…his poemberosa i.e.
just the last moment I read,
“The Long and the Short of It,”
by him.
My theory works for me.
Does it work for you?

shame claimed is cathartic

.

no Mr. Talking Head
peace will not be made in the Arab world
when there is peace between Israel and Palestine,
peace stands waiting for Shiite and Sunni to stop
killing one another
thus and from hence the Peace of Islam

no, Mr.s Mossads
the web is stickier for lethal secrets
no place to hide nor run
no bobbing of curls up and down
will change the shame of
God given laws Broken
one more time again
thus and from hence will come the Peace of Judaism?

and no, Christian Soldier marching off to war
that is NOT the message of Jesus
why in this world will you believe He will return
while Christians still march off to war?
where is your Shame?

claim your shame
if you would open the door
to Peace(.)

meteoric darkness/light

.
now we know who Prisoner X is
R.I.P. Ben Zygier
oh so many martyrs
oh so many ugly secrets
by ignoble men
pinching cracks in truth
so bad so sorry
truth aka truthiness IS
a flashing meteor of truth-lighting
across the Heavens
(the whole world is watching)
crashes in to innocents (mostly) to Earth
1,000 martyrs hurt
1,000 ignoble men more
out of their assumed secret sequestration
the truth of dark ugliness

my muse returns and says,
“These are wasted words my dear,
the women all know,
and few are the men who have eyes to see.”

Grace Note by W. S. Merwin

.

It is at last any morning
not answering to a name
I wake before there is light
hearing once more that same
music without repetition
or beginning playing
away into itself
in silence like a wave
a unison in its own
key that I seem
to have heard before I
was listening but by the time
I hear it now it is gone
as when on a morning
alive with sunlight
almost at the year’s end
a feathered breath a bird
flies in at the open window
then vanishes leaving me
believing what I do not see

from The Shadow of Sirius
published by Copper Canyon Press 2009

www.coppercanyonpress.org

will there be “English only” in Heaven

will Monkeys come home to shine
who needs a Valentine
what country is Stickville
surely not Pleasantville
how did touching in public become taboo
spot me a tea and i’ll crump it
civilized people don’t grunt battle
they fart missals from the sky
oh hooligan i
runs away now to mi casa
tu casa también
if you da hooligan mon

how do I senile? let me count the ways

(.}

getting up to look for my glasses and
they fall out of my lap
asking my friend if he has my lighter and
he points to my hand holding it
(damn that comfortable Bic shape)
my children say i’m a sweet old lady and
i forget to mention without tobacco i’d be
a raging bull

i gorfot the other twenty-four

time to write myself a letter

time to write myself a letter
for the moment of that’s all
mombo computer will allow

how much of me went too far
cyber space connected
disconnected forever maybe

there it is!
my bottom line of wanting to do
word/thought/write/ponder

next is yet to come

water is still frozen, sewer now plugged
i had a long afternoon in cyber space
less than before had been left behind

real life comes in and i’m reminded
of 2nd presidential terms and free
time for more silence more zen

the hour is wee a.m. and cloudy
three little men asleep in my compound
helps me feel worthy of newborn morn
or unworthy yet to need another haha

make that an everything-rose-color morn
given to sailors and mothers lament
the comings the leavings the joys
of returnings