The president saw on cable
TV, probably Fox News, his
main news source, dozens

killed by nerve gas and he
was outraged. But, what about
all the collateral damage (sic),

human beings slaughtered by
U.S. bombing raids at the
instruction of this president?

But we are the exceptionally
righteous, Christian country,
so whatever we do is A-okay.

Now, media outlets are cover-
ing the news and cheering on
the president for defending

everyone and the president’s
extremely low poll ratings will
do an about-face and he will

benefit from the macho move
and the Republicans can breathe
a sigh of relief as the elect-

ions approach and Putin says
to the president, “The little
bombing was just enough to do

nothing but give the impression
you are doing something. Very
smart, Comrade. Now back off.”

He makes a big mistake
and waits for his wife’s take
on what happened.
Silence. Then she simply said,
“Things happen.”
He breathed a sigh of relief,
then she made a mistake
and waited for his take
on what happened.
Silence. Then he asked,
“How could you let this happen?”
Then she asked, “Who’s more
forgiving in this relation?”
Silence. Then he said,
“Tu, mi amor. Lo siento,
mi esposa, mi amor.”
He breathed a sigh
hoping the romance language would fly,
then waited to avoid grieving.
She simply said, “On the
couch you will be sleeping,
mi loco pollo,
for a night or two-o,
but please stop weeping.”
He cried, “Without you, dear,
I have to be sleeping?”
“For two nights only
and don’t you dare go sneaking.”
He cried, “Touché, my multi-lingual
wife. You win. I quit.
No longer will I say
I am the forgiving one
even for fun.
I’m just a big, less than forgiving, twit.
Mi esposa, mi amor, my truly
forgiving mate,
to your bed, if I may.”
She said with a smile on her face,
“Two days from now will be okay.”

Walking across the parking lot
he heard her say to her friend,
“Oh no, they took the car cover
off and just left it there.”
“Want some help picking it up?”
“Thanks. There won’t be any
rattlesnakes under it will there?”
“Where are you from?”
“Milwaukee.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three weeks.”
He could have kidded her a bit,
but said, “I think we are pretty
safe.”
Her friend called out, “Watch
out for spiders.”
“Or scorpions,” he thought of
saying — like a kid in sixth
grade would have —
but he didn’t.

She reflects on the Valley of
the Sun’s winter marches
for rights — immigrants, LGBTs,
women.

She was taught about heaven
and gold and a precious gem

in the literal, biblical view,
but that way is no longer new.

It’s all right here, right
now —
heaven, empyrean,
eternity — that’s how —

when she heard again
The Day the Music Died,
and she thought and cried,
about Buddy Holly, the Big
Bopper and Richie Valens
all who fell out of the sky

and

softly, sweetly, Holly sang:

Sometimes we’ll sigh,
sometimes we’ll cry
and we’ll know why
just you and I
know true love ways,

and

Well, that ‘ill be the day,
eh, eh, that I die,

and my, oh, my,
why aren’t there
protest songs today?
Buddy, Richie and the Bopper,
given things as they are today,
may have written and sung some
after “silly love songs”
if they had not gone away —
after La Bamba and Chantilly Lace —
and that very day, the day
the music died,
but she keeps marching and
singing in protest
while she knows
the poignancy of
true love ways
and hopes for the songs
that will inspire all
along the way.

The new Veep, old, forked-tongue Mike
claiming never to be alone with a woman other than his wife,
hooked his political wagon to a falling star
in hopes that he could break loose and travel far.
The only problem for the Veep
is that he, too, is in trouble a deep heap.
The next problem then, if the Veep goes down
is that we will be left with the House’s main clown —
Paul Ryan, for legislation dead on arrival
is dubbed the Irish Undertaker,
then will be the next presidential news faker.
The Lord of Hosts once asked if there
were just one honest Holy Land man.
Well, we can declare, “Certainly not in this unholy GOP land.”
Like the guaranteed result of a good enema, alas,
hopefully, this abomination of an administration will soon pass.
Like dominoes — all three fall one right after another —
we can only hope
and this is no April Fool’s joke.

Hangin’ out in D.C
as the new plutocracy,
Wall Street Hillbillies
are sayin’ things downright silly.
Through their teeth they lie
and promise pie-in-the-sky,
but a whopping sixty-six percent
hope the hillbillies just go bye-bye.
The other thirty-seven
still think they are on the way to heaven,
but the day of reckoning is comin’
when they lose healthcare, electricity and plumbin’.
They’ll say, “Now, we can’t flush
and who turned out the lights?”
Well, Wall Street walked off with
all the money and everybody’s human rights.
Better luck next time.
Stay away from Wall Street Hillbillies
and you should be just fine.

A waif of a child
stood in line
and was asked,
“Who is the weakest one?”
“Not I.”
“Run, boy, run.”
He ran but was caught
and was the beaten one.
His friend just watched.
Bruised but unbowed,
not dehumanized nor
brutalized in spirit,
he spoke gently of
forests, woods, waters,
flora and fauna.
“Who is the weakest one?”
“Not I.”
“Run, boy, run.”
Beaten but not bowed,
he spoke of nature.
His friend just watched.
“Strike the thief. He
stole from the Fatherland.”
The boys did.
“I will not.”
He did not.
That waif of a child
stood in line.
“Who is the weakest?”
“Not I.”
“Run, boy, run.”
“I will not.”
His friend just watched.
The waif whispered softly
of flora and fauna
and looked up at a blue, blue sky
before he closed his eyes.
His friend sat by his side
and cried.

*inspiration from All The Light You Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

The late, great Madame Lefarge
was as big as a barge
and fit snugly in a huge coffin —
one not seen very often.
As the pallbearers
descended the stairs,
the coffin broke away
becoming a descending sleigh
sliding down flight after flight
causing great fright.
The coffin split in two
And through the air Madame Lefarge flew.
Many screamed
but Madame Lefarge remained serene.
In death Madame Lefarge
became a celebrity quite large.
While some thought it all terrible,
Madame Lefarge became France’s first dirigible.
Unlike the Hindenburg burning in the sky,
Madame Lefarge was last seen waving goodbye.

He reads poetry of immigration,
Deportation and desolation
Instead of celebration.
What has happened?
He is a first generation
Child of Immigration,
And as hard as life was for
The Swedes, Hollanders, Italians and
Poles of his neighborhood and
As suspicious as those groups
Were of each other, their journeys
Were a celebration
And eventually those groups found
Love in combination.
He is a product of that combination
And daily looks upon life in appreciation
For the difficult journeys and the
Love that overcame suspicion and
Separation.
His grandson is a rainbow coalition.
The boy can’t be prejudiced against anyone
Because he is everyone
And in that sense, he is
The revelation and incarnation
Of the Sacred Son, the Divine Daughter,
The Holy Child — Everyone.

We spend our lives searching for
wholeness for the fragments –
putting the pieces together once

we’ve identified the pieces which
takes so much of our time – am
I this, that or the other? And then

there are those who stop search-
ing for whatever reason and those
who never started and the whole

enterprise is aborted. Then there
are those who are told that a frag-
ment is the whole and live in that

little, truncated world believing
but not feeling. All those along
the path need prayer, especially

those who just settled and stopped
searching believing the journey
was too arduous or there was no

need to search on. As you pass
them, wave, smile and say a prayer
that you keep going, growing,

searching, finding, realizing that
our whole is only in connection
and communion with others, with

nature, with the creation, with
the origin and the destination of
it all who joins us on the journey

of eternity, sometimes glimpsed
in a fragment of a moment here,
there, anywhere — perhaps in

a single, deep inhale and a
single, deep exhale and the
mindfulness to know both as one.