A Thousand Oaks and the Tree of Life

thoughts & prayers

for Parkland . . . and so many more

seventeen more

black arm bands

on a nation’s soul—

yet the guns stand erect

as the coffins go down

NRA

blazoned across his back—

I look

for the blood

on his hands

on foolscap,

I write letters

to my Senator—

thirty pieces of silver

jingle in his pocket

~Atlas Poetica 32, spring 2018 

whistling in the dark

a meeting

of the Flat Earth Society

in my state capital—

looney birds roosting

in the Land of Trump

from the throne

of a naked emperor

torrents of words 

like day-blind bats

twitter across the sky

on the radio

the usual blather

about causes

of gun violence—

a wren burbles in the frost

worshippers

kneel in a river 

of blood,

lifting clasped hands

to the god of guns

bereft of words

I kneel and listen:

lullabies 

in falling snow 

the silent sparrows

emptiness—

the discarded bottle

in my hand

sings at every step

the wind’s low note

deer entrails

at the meadow’s edge—

I divine

the will of the gods

in a chickadee’s whistle

~Atlas Poetica 32, spring 2018