CALL TO ARMS

Charge the cold, charge
The city and its powers

All the workwomen, their
Electrician counterparts, their
Immaculate craft –

The glass house dispatches
From the shore

Stuck and sailing we
Grovel for means –

Kosher dogs and escape routes -
City on the sea

Trading carpet strips for
Double sided tape, for
Needles and pins -

This is a survival story!

for EMMA

emma
if you're reading this
i miss seeing your brainheart
spilled onto the internet
please write again

THIRTY-ONE

On an inflatable raft
in the middle of a somber lake
a cold breeze
as the sun ducks behind the trees

baby boy

Daddy reports baby's got stats
Sex: Male
Gestation: 39 weeks
Labor: 3.5 hrs
Born: 5:23 PM--January 22, 2010
Weight: 7.12 lbs.
Height: 20 Inches
Nurses whispered that baby has jaundice
Doc says stick it in the sun
No big deal.

Howard Zinn R.I.P. 1922-2010

In some ways says more about the state of the union
than any speech. Not that there aren't other
thinkers, or that Zinn's own speeches didn't
tend toward feel-good fluff. But, damn. A light out.

All I can think about is Sibelius' Symphony no. 2.
I remember the first time I heard it. Ithaca, NY, 2003.
Life was confronting me with the real possibility
of getting stuck on a conservatory education track.
I would have killed myself.

When it premiered, a reviewer called the Sibelius
"the worst composer in the world." Myself
I can't help finding the warmest, brightest light
of the universe in there, along with all kinds
of poignancy. I'm worried that I sound trite,
talking about poignancy. I couldn't even tell
you what home would look like.
It would have to get some sun. Fairly sure.