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Losses

Losses

 

What are we doing

 

Shootings in a night club

In Orlando

A home of amusement

Parks that invite many

To play-worlds

 

What kind of patterned,

Surrender of sanity

Are we about, call it

Terror or derangement

Or “just a family thing”

 

A singer shot

The other night

In the Florida

City, too

She might have

Been smiling

As a blessing,

Flush from

Performing,

Just before

 

We lose and lose

Blood and life and ground

The earth of reason

Climbs away, above a

Plain of misery

 

I watch and read the

News in my small

Region

 

Where grown-ups

Are shot and children

Are abused, as if

By grinning devils or

Their supplicants

 

The Eumenides must weep

They do not demand

Or negate choice—they

Simply weave our

Threads of fate from

 

Which we have co-opted

Furies-cutting

 

We do these things,

And is there such disparity:

 

A world of who-has

Living behind a barrier

Of wealth and fantasy

And hired protection

(So to say)

 

Until distance is broken

Through

 

Fear, isolated penury,

And vacuum-thinking

Shooting, burning through

 

Shattering separation

In a final, violating way

 

Until from lives

Destroyed, death layers

Everyone on a field

Of weeds

 

Weeds for mundane death,

For funeral-attending

 

We are all equal now

Loss

Loss

(for my friend Sanford)

 

Love pitches

And slides down

No purchase for a hold

All last moments gone

 

You

Are friend sitting beside

Me, sometimes

Walking with me here

And there

 

You moved so slowly

Through the world

So that love might

Permeate, a message

In itself

 

Go slowly, the Buddhists

Say—you taught me

That

 

A righteous challenge

For those who move

Too fast, a badge

A sign that virtue

Is in rapidity alone

 

Rather what we do

While on the way

Is what makes the

Difference

 

And the love we leave

While on our way

 

Where you are

Is good, is right

Is healing, and is

Love—

 

You loved us here

Thank you for that

I cannot say good-bye

Tierra Sagrada

Tierra Sagrada

 

Is what my calendar calls it,

Which sent the beacon

To my e-mail now

 

Maybe I signed on through

A Latino site

 

It’s a planet observance and

Call—one-point-five degrees

Celsius (or centigrade)

 

Can we hold the world’s

Temperature to rise no

More by our own hand?

 

Write, campaign otherwise,

Stamp feet on given ground:

 

If we’re to keep it and give

(Leave) it beyond us—profit

Might forego

 

To provide instead a future

 

 

12 June 2016

sacredearth2016.org

To Stanford and the Rest

To Stanford and the Rest

 

Rape ruins lives

It is not the end

But it is an end

 

You are too many

You can’t provide

For all of you

Make smaller then

Your schools and

Your communities

 

We think coming together

And layering

Big crowds in accretion

Speak to progress and

The good in us

 

But large looms and then

Shadows grow larger

In which we hide the

Worse longings of the

Heart

 

Planning destruction

To call it strategy

And high living

 

Grow up, grow down

Grow out, grow in

Or grow apart

 

Take care of each

Or give it up

Brave lives endure

In spite of you

That is the message now

Sanford Alwine, 1938 into 2016, seventy-seven (haiku)

I lost my good friend

He is closer to the source

Nature and God now

 

(I’ll write more about my friend)

irony of fire (haiku)

irony of fire

removes light from home or town

something once ablaze

 

(kind of goes with the one before)

after friends’ house fire (haiku)

I do not enjoy

Seeing your house without light

The fire takes too much

 

after friends’ house fire (haiku)

 

Planet Minerva

Planet Minerva

 

Except for Earth and

Uranus (a Greek divinity,

Parenting gods as well),*

We name

 

Our planets for gods of

Rome, perhaps stabilizing

Legacies

 

X, Y, Z—Planet X (not

Roman ten, since Pluto’s

Demotion) might need a

Name

 

If (say it “Iks”) Ix won’t

Work for (new) planet

Number nine,

 

I recommend Minerva,

Imposing wisdom on

Our solar notion that we

Are done meeting our

Planets

 

(*finished here or read

the note below

 

And on a profound-less

Note, if Uranus,

Pronounced either way,

Still leaves the

Audience dying, then

We could take the

Roman form for that

And call it Caelus or

Coelus, more sonorous

In transliteration)

Feats of Clay

Feats of Clay

 

I know he was no longer

Clay once he became Ali

 

I could not resist the pun;

And if you don’t recall,

If you never knew, he

Was a funny guy (funny

As the word “guy”)

 

Humor charged his

Boasts—reality charged

The rest that really

Mattered

 

He was the greatest:

Neither the floating

Butterfly nor the stinging

Bee would  disagree—nor

Would opponents, once

Rested and articulate

Again

 

I heard athletic adversaries

Talking throughout the

Day

 

I also, years ago, watched

His performance in a

Television-movie: he

Played a humble man

 

Wanting to improve

Himself against the odds

 

No surprise, his character

Was convincing

 

In life, he proved his wider

Claims; he showed that

Black boxing can hit

History

 

I don’t like boxing, but I like

What he did

 

I like how he believed

 

Older than my siblings (I

Am in the middle), three

Of us from the same town,

 

Famous for other matters—

Horserace and the classic

Baseball bat

 

I’ll take him first for our

Shared city

 

And what he made there

 

Victory and better days

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