In Botswana, we all got our start
scientific anthropologists tell us.
Now, we can put the 200,000-year-old horse before the cart.
To farthest places on the face of the earth
they traced a strand of DNA finding
we are all the same in original birth.
Differences in altitude and how
close to the sun we’ve been
account for such inconsequential things as
width of the nose and tone of the skin.
So before it’s too late
and, in fear, we destroy each other without mercy,
let’s all embrace and celebrate
our oneness in diversity.

* https://www.nst.com.my/world/world/2019/10/533965/where-did-humans-come-botswana
and https://www.inverse.com/article/60470-hometown-for-humanity?utm_source=pocket-newtab.

We blow up one
And say, “It’s done.”
The ones
Behind the “blown-up” one
Say, “It’s not done.”

Words represent something
behind the words.

Behind has multiple meanings
behind the word behind — other words.

It’s complicated beyond complication —
all those words heard.

Meaning could be
as simple as a parable,
But still, not everyone hears
and not everyone sees.

You could just say
in the beginning was the word

and sit back
(which also has many meanings, you see)
and bask
in the mystery.

He saw an ad for senior helpers, those helping
(well, they only showed) old, white people.

And there were the helpers helping old, white
people downstairs, into chairs, giving hugs,

laughing at old, white peoples’ put-on mugs.
And who were these young helpers of seniors?

They were the young ‘uns Jesus loves — red,
black, brown, yellow — they are precious in his

sight. Yes, Jesus loves the little children of
the world — even old, white ones.

They came up with the great,
political campaign promotion

of selling plastic straws with
the candidate’s name on them.

Now, not only will elephants
be voting for their candidate,

but whales, porpoises and
tortoises can decide, also.

He and his wife entertained a good friend as a
house guest and during one of their wonderful
chats, the host likened his own mother, in a some-
what facetious way, to the star of the movie and
book Mommy Dearest. He said, “The infamous
Jane Crawford.” His guest, with furrowed brow, said,
“June Crawford. I think maybe June not Jane.” The
host then said, “No, I think June Crawford was the
loving mother on Lassie. She was such a nice
person.” His friend said, “Yes, Jane not June.” In the
morning following breakfast, the friend took off to
continue his road trip. After hugs and an affectionate
farewell, the host sat repeating the names — Jane,
June, Jane, June. “Wait,” he exclaimed, “Not Jane or
June, but JOAN! Yes, Joan Crawford.” Then he looked
up the old TV show Lassie on his computer and saw
big and bold, right in front of his eyes — June Lockhart,
not June Crawford. The host thought about calling his
good friend but his friend would be on the road. He’ll
just send him an e-mail if he could only remember his
friend’s e-mail address.

Leaves fall on netting.
Fish can’t see him bringing food.
Silent, still they wait.

They got saved, walked the sawdust trail, heeded
the altar call and secured for themselves a trip
up and not down and now they are misrepresenting
Old Testament, vengeful people who just want us
to go into the Middle East or the Far East and
kill in the name of US nationalism and fascism
which they misinterpret for the Kingdom of God
and God’s will and Jesus’ words and if you ask
them when was the last time they read any of the
red-letter edition of Jesus’ words like the Beat-
itudes and Sermon on the Mount and Matthew 25,
probably the donkeys would bray, “Say what?”

The faintest blue emerges from
behind the silhouette of branches,
leaves, needles but time passes,
the earth spins and a plethora
of color dawns.

Without Cain to keep him in line,
the white, Southern scarecrow isn’t
Abel and just blows in the wind,
“Lynchin’, of course, it is a Lynchin’,”
the Carolina cracker says through
swollen cheeks and baggy eyes
or a really big hangover in unctuous,
servile support of the occupant’s
claim that his impeachment inquiry
is a lynching while the straw blows
out of his servile arms and the blackbirds
pluck out his eyes and his thick,
southern drawl tongue and he’s
left looking like a used car lot
crazy air balloon figure “blowin’
in the wind.”