Friday, March 28, 2008

Email Message Sent to on High

I keep hearing about guns going off in funeral parlors,
watch the polar ice cap splinter into teepees on the evening news. Oil runs into blood in deep ditches without a staff. Today somebody spray-painted the 10 Commandments on the pavement in front of where I work. I took it as a sign recounting the day in my small place across the street from a canyon preserve where poison oak flashes its red glittery leaves, cattails teach scripture wearing seeded beards, and poppies slope down the hill blazing a golden path.  

Friday, March 14, 2008

Tkhine in Adar II

I come before you,
a woman who catches white blossoms
before they drift to the ground,

begging you, merciful God,
to allow my country to hear the words
of the Winter Soldiers
testifying this weekend in Washington, D.C.
how they can no longer
honor military guidelines for killing
other human beings,
and while I'm on the subject,

allow the people of Israel and Palestine
to become so weary of violence
they demand of their leaders
to find an olive branch
which has not been cut down,
and to stand beneath its small shade
as they approach each other
with an offering of fresh goat's milk.

Friday, March 7, 2008

Chekhov List

On the drive back from LA
we pass through almond trees dusted with white blossoms,
from mountains, rolling hills, farmland, to a web of powerlines,

half-way houses of gas stations and their convenience stores
with heavy duty oil booster and engine oil treatment,
thirsty tune-ups in a 32-ounce glass,

models of Chevron gas trucks from different years
mounted above the cashier where there's phone
and gas plastic, but no redemption cards,

flag decals, flaming eagles, skulls grinning inside
glowing crosses, girls in stiletto heels wrapped in the American
flag, a dust brush, a life lite, a flashlight and a CD organizer for the car.

We settle on a jumbo pack of corn chips
sealed with its own container of salsa, pull-off top.
I am hungry and want to get it

the way I thought about you
all weekend on a retro hotel bed
carved with roses.

Long Line

There's a long wait in a long line
People are standing in the street,
No one's handing out bags of groceries,
I'm getting cold waiting in a long line.

To pay parking tickets at the DMV,
or for some crazy stuff at the store I don't need.
I have to send a money order to my family.
I'm getting old waiting in these long lines.

For a chance at a machine to wash my clothes,
then I go next door to see a sports show,
Drink a beer, wait for the bathroom key.
I still need to make an appointment with the DMV.

Now I'm stuck in traffic to pay a bridge toll,
Or on standby so I can fly back home,
I'm waiting for my divorce to get final,
I'm waiting for my life to get real.

I've been waiting in a long long line.