Poem: Moral Development
Rarely do people reach his Sixth Stage
the book says,
repeating the idea that
we aren't always the people we see in the mirror
or the computer screen;
rather - skipping along the pavement,
we play the Good Boy role -
kneeling at the Theater of Security
or the Theater of Right and Wrong,
clapping politely for the president's final bow
while grimacing through clenched and broken
It's 8 o'clock.
Do you know where your principles are?
Haiku: F Train
Slush on the tracks
he's taking half my seat-
it must be his puffy jacket.
I sneeze in my hand,
No one says God Bless You,
we switch to the G line.
Can you spare some change-
Penny, Dime, Nickel, Quarter,
I'd appreciate it and I don't do drugs.
"Take a pill," she says,
"Call the doctor," she says,
"I have the name of a good knee man," she says.
He tests his cel-phone again and again,
Those guys are cursing up a storm,
REVS ten feet high on the wall.
Always a baked chicken smell,
spot the girl wolfing down white styrofoam platter,
I move to the corner seat.
Poem: Hall of Meteorites
Blasted through a tunnel
at the approximate speed of sound
finding the right track
just the right track
for a state of mind
neither wellness nor Wells
trusting my thought accomplices:
"Can it," they say
"What do you know," I say
"We know it's going to hell in a handbasket," they say
"That's just NPR talk," I say.
Full of harmony
full of grace
save us from falling brokers.