In Crisis: Poignancy
Attempt emergency resuscitation:
it lays on a pyre of fighting words,
gasping and fluttering.
The lilting head of a blue hydrangea
thick and petalled, thinking.
Even brooding is old-fashioned.
Bludgeon me with your compassion.
Shout it till you’re blue in the face: I love you, stupid!
Let Me Be Clear as a coffin lid.
Brood your way through the American spirit
back to the Scarlet Letter.
Let’s define terms first: “we” “who” “are”
Hips still thin as pencil stubs, blonde cascading hair
dirty school girl look
What creature wouldn’t want to jump them
old as day
the Bible’s full of it
Let’s all have another cup.
The word ex-patriot makes me blue.
I’m in exile from being an ex-pat.
Singing is a celebration of oxygen.
The celebration of oxygen is every artist’s charge.
If there’s one thing you do, celebrate oxygen!