We had a good conversation about
where we come from but then we

asked, given all the gifts we have
for art and literature, why they

couldn’t have known all that and
helped us along, but they couldn’t

have given us what we have been
given, given where they came from.

The psychopathic puppet now
military-speaks words put into

his mouth by the generals whom
he has gathered around him. He

has been told what to do and what
to say and now does it. His words

are no longer his, but those who
put words in his mouth and who

seek the total militarization of
the nation. The bunting was there.

The only good news: West Michigan
mercenaries will not be there.

Someone referred to George H. W. Bush
as a wimp and the next thing you know
we are in a war.

George W. Bush swore not to nation build
and then after 9/11 he had to show his stuff,
so invaded the wrong country starting another war.

Donald Trump is doing miserable in the polls
so for what only should have been a police action
in 2001, he’s about to up the ante for more war.

We should have elected a woman with ovaries
rather than men with testes
in order not to lose so many lives
over guys with “wimp” complex-ees.

I love musicals; doesn’t that make me Jewish?
I love musicals; isn’t it something for
which you wish?
For this don’t we all wish?
My mother loved musicals
and I was sure she was Jewish
but my DNA showed I was mostly Swedish.
I swoon when I hear all those great songs
written by Jews;
I just want to put on my dancing shoes.
They wrote songs about struggles Jewish
and we never knew which was which —
underdogs — slaves, depression whites, immigrants —
you’ve got to be carefully taught.
If you are all white in America,
you have to be carefully taught .
Who would ever have thought
that the Jews’ diaspora story
would grace the stage in such glory?
I love musicals; doesn’t that make me Jewish?
In my mind I dance across the stage
and wish and wish and wish.
And then there was Fiddler on the Roof,
a specifically designed
musical with only Jews in mind
and “May the Lord protect and defend you,”
and I knew for sure with The Producers
I was white, black, brown, red, yellow,
Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu
straight, LGBTQ
and Jewish through and through and through
and for all the musicals, thank you, thank
you, thank you.

When fired, they don’t go in style;
They don’t go in grace;
They don’t go with a humble smile.
They go swearing vengeance and in haste,
Confirming that there is no true loyalty
Among ne’er-do-wells and thieves,
Those who always have ulterior motives
Up their sleeves.
Ultimately, schemes will come to nought,
And their plans served up on a cutting board.
Though the wrong seems strong and fraught
With danger — virtue, compassion, justice,
Peace and mercy will prevail for the distraught.
For “Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord.

Each year, she tends to the flowers surrounding the pond —
Hasta, all manner of lilies, Sedum and Shasta Daisies.
The deer eat most except they let the daisies go
and do not abscond.
It’s maddening to see the flowers grow lovely and strong
but overnight petal, stamen and pistil are devoured and gone
leaving only the poor, lonely stem,
a peduncle, which in the wind does bend.
Yes, the deer eat most except they let the daisies go
but she’s a pushover at heart —
how can she stay mad at Bambi, the fawn
And his mother, the Great Princess of the Forest
— the lovely doe?
Still…the deer just drive her crazy,
and next year she may plant only the Shasta Daisy.

Backlash, hopefully hopeful backlash
	to the debacle in Virginia, non-violent
resistance from the majority of Americans,
	horrified at what they watched -- domestic violence, 
kiwi torches carried by the button down, 
   preppie fraternity white boys 
	who thought they could get away 
with hate 
	a hundred and fifty years (Can't we move on?) late,
but didn’t count on being caught on camera 
and now have a price to pay 
	for a cavalier attitude of “What the hey?”
and “EVERYTHING WE DO IS A-OKAY!!!!!” 
Well, white boys,
	it ain’t okay 
and that is what the majority 
	of Americans, finally, definitively 
have had to say!

She sat and stared into a far off place
Where no one else could go nor find
Her mental steps that hurried rapid paced —
A portrait of bliss burgeoning in her mind.

She stared at the pond and peaceful waterfall
But in her mind she danced along the trail
Accompanied by her six retrievers all.
And at the end of the trail, slapped by six happy tails.

She sat and stared into a far off place,
A place of unconditional love and grace.

It’s all about the length.
It has always been about the length.
From before the days of field slaves,
for weak, limp, length white men
it’s always about the length,
and white men’s insecurity about
their length.
It’s primordial as to who has
the greater length.
Pale, emaciated, evangelical
white men following the
emasculated Jesus, meek and mild,
rebelled against a dead Jew
with a shriveled, limp, little
length and looked down and
cried and shouted, “The South
will rise again” even as they worried
about their length and if their
little limb would ever rise again.

I give thanks for Donald Trump
because, as he speaks of fake

news, he has shown me my fake
self, my Donald Trump self. I

can’t stand this guy because he
represents the absolute worst in

my life. He’s the extreme and
I pray that what I see does not

loom large in my life, but I know
that if I violate one of the com-

mandments I violate them all
and so I stand bankrupt before

life and there is just enough for
me to know that I need once

again to go to the mercy-seat,
and ask the Lord to take my

fake self, my selfish self, my
ego self, my infantile self,

my violent self, my insecure self
my white self, my privileged self

and empty that false self into
the ineffable mercy and love

of God and find my true self,
my Jesus self.