He Shall Separate The MENS From The WOMENS
here, only GIRLS hands shall rub together
twist faucet OFF
rip paper towel from holder
in bathroom mirrored to be one dimensional
stocked with the obviously definable
teeter-tottering between IDs leveled
and lo, it shall come to pass
the creeks shall flow clear
the fish shall shimmer
the animals shall skip
the meadows shall flower
and the loyal shall inherit Everything
Agency
Discovering our lives were made up
interwoven, fragile filaments ❘ networks of:
Good Morning / Good Evening
You Got Here First
You’re Welcome / You Betcha
I’m In No Rush
Excuse Me / How Are You?
Don’t Mention It / How Nice
Thank You Kind Stranger
I’m Glad I Could Help
I Appreciate the Gesture
Please, After You
You’re buying chips and a soda
while my cart is full
The podcast Rumble Strip has put out a call for audio clips that reflect the "sound of now." The call inspired this poem about what's on my mind after last week's blackout at the National Institutes of Health.
The Gulp of America
thermostat set at lukewarm 65
raise it two degrees in case of showers
usually remember to reset it
furnace’s roar a grind against his mind
try to soften the door’s click as it shuts
maybe today he’ll get three hours sleep
walk to work is thirty-minute trudging
icy sidewalks broken by boot imprints
supervisor appreciates efforts
wishes paycheck could be commensurate
grant given by agency bankrupted
funding shortfalls are an unforeseen shame
Not Me Bolsters
I am a stress fractured
tibia
unable to support body
weight
forward momentum
terminated
Not Me is an air cast
compressing broken bits
cushioning each new step
Not Me Swells like Mahler’s Symphony Number Two, the Fifth Movement
I am a flat line⎹ precise graphite⎹ mark on page
Not Me begins as nightingale flute call
to which a mourning dove sighs a reply
first solo, then duet of grief, then the full choir is mummering
now the strings are shedding tears, now the horns are wailing
now the whole orchestra interludes in ascending scales
climbing from whip-poor-will weeping to meadow lark’s trill
next organ interjects, holding onto a clarion hawk cry
finally, the cathedral bells chime their dawn greeting song
―――――
Informed by “Mahler Listening Guide Symphony no. 2 in C Minor (“Resurrection”)”
Bettie Jo Basinger https://utahsymphony.org/explore/2014/11/mahler-2-listening-guide/
Not Me is Steady
chuga-chuga steam whistles out my
ears / I am loco-motive forward motion
racing rails in a rush to build up thrill /
Not-Me is a piling driven thirty feet deep
Support structure securing pier through
storms / Stable despite waves beatings
Wooden planks are made to
break away under pressure
Timbers are meant to set
into ocean-floor muck
endure salty sea air
