The young lady sitting next to us at the bar
ordered a rose wine. I asked her about it.
She said it was dry. The conversation took

off from there. We discussed our common
alma mater and how this department was
progressive and that was not and one had

to be careful in choosing. Turns out I am a
friend of her minister grandfather, a legend
of progressive causes and suffering grievously

the consequences of living in a conservative
area. I told her a couple of humorous stories
about her grandfather’s travails. We laughed

and then we bemoaned the sorry state of
affairs in America today due to the present
federal administration. My wife and I bought

the glass of dry rose for her. We hugged; she
left. The old, white curmudgeon sitting a few
seats down the bar was finishing his prime

rib dinner and I wanted to tell him a great
story about a friend who ate prime rib in
a fancy downtown steak restaurant in

Chicago and how it didn’t compare to that
served at the local restaurant for half
the price. I asked if I could tell him

a cute, quick story. He told me to get
lost and that he had heard my conversation
with the young woman. I slapped him on

the back saying, “God bless you, brother.
We are all just doing the Jesus work.”
He almost choked on the last piece.

When did money become so powerful,
such an aphrodisiac, something our
souls continually lust after? Was it
when Calvin gave the go ahead for
money to make money and we jumped
out of feudal society into the modern
capitalistic society? No, it had to
be before that. Shall we venture back
to the Golden Calf? Isn’t there some
ancient truth about not being able
to serve God and mammon/wealth?
So we just moved God over and made
the pursuit of wealth our god and we
have been worshiping the greenback
ever since, but it is just metal and
paper. Why do we love it so? Because
it can get us what we want? With
enough we can get stuff. But it’s not
the stuff we love is it? It’s just having
more and more and more of our god
because then we are the gods but now
we find that there are just a very few
gods, the vulture gods, who have almost
all the money and they still want more
and more and more and we lost our love
and now owe the bank what we love and
have lost and will never get it back.
And so the vulture gods lust and lust
and lust and we borrow, borrow, borrow
and lustful souls never rest and when
will we learn that we cannot serve God
and wealth? When will we learn that in
striving to own it all, we will lose our
souls? When will we learn that our
lust for the paper idol has brought us
to the pits of hell where only Satan is
god? When will we learn that “Thou hast
made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart
is restless until it finds its rest in thee” —
in your compassion, justice, mercy and
self-sacrificial love? When will we learn
that in giving up our lives for the sake of
others and their welfare as we see in Jesus
that we will gain our true selves and you, God?

White —
Evangelical Christians
are thanking their god that
they got it right.

Kennedy —
is retiring spoiling
his long legacy.

He and Trump
and Kennedy’s son
are connected for
a financial fee.

Whites see Donald
as Cyrus freeing them
from their plight.

Row vs. Wade
is now destined to
be mowed

down into history’s
ground.

Those who are out
of touch with the
majority chose

to push their minority
views on me and you

and so doing, undid
the great forefathers’
and mothers’ democratic
plan.

He went for an early morning jog
because it was forecasted to get hot.

He saw ferns flutter along the trail
and thought it was a white tail.

He saw a black bear behind a tree,
but just a stump it turned out to be.

He thought he saw a fox cross the creek.
It was an old raccoon headed for a drink.

Up in the sky was a red-tailed hawk
then he heard the turkey vulture squawk.

Disappointed, he headed back to the car
when he saw an eagle from afar.

No, the keen observer wouldn’t be fooled this day —
he saw the great bird descend for prey.

Now excited, he couldn’t wait to tell his wife
about seeing all the magnificent wildlife.

With his eagle eye an eagle he did see —
affirming that he is a keen observer and bel esprit.

He didn’t know how much
he missed serenity
until about a year into
this federal administration.

He finds himself yearning for
nature — trees, bushes,
flowers, ponds, waterfalls,
fox, bear, deer, snakes.

He yearns for a jog in the woods,
along the trails, by the lake.

He jogs, he stops, lifts his head
from staring at the trail, watches
the sun shimmer on the lake, inhales
evergreen, breathes deeply,
feels the breeze out the west
crossing the Big Lake,
listens to squirrels scampering,
birds singing. He watches the rings
on the water caused by fish rising
to the surface.

He starts to jog again. He climbs the
sand dune; he cautiously descends,
hiking sticks giving him four
legs.

He is one of the woodland animals.

Restoration or retribution,
Rehabilitation or deterioration,
Regeneration or degeneration,
Reconciliation or alienation,
Solidarity or fragmentation,
Healing or stealing,
Heaven or hell.

*idea from quote by Paul Hawken in
a meditation by Richard Rohr

We can dig here;
We can cut here;
We can plow here;
We can burn here;
We can dump here;
We can bury here;
We can blast here;
We can build here;
We can get to market
   faster and cheaper
   and make a bigger profit.
What’s the cost?

*idea from a quote by Paul Hawken in 
The Ecology of Commerce: A Declaration of 
Sustainability, Revised Edition  in 
a meditation by Richard Rohr

Gut labor rights;
Gut gay rights;
Gut abortion rights;
Gut Muslim rights;
Gut your rights;
Gut my rights; 
Gut everyone’s rights
       Except white rights
            Which aren’t rights —
                   Just trumped-up majority rights —
                         Trumped up white privileges,
                                Which would shock all the 
Immigrants since 
      The foundation of the country —
          Probably some family of the 
              Members of the Supreme Court — 
                   Because they all came here 
                        For their rights like 
                             Everyone’s rights.
Gut your rights;
Gut my rights;
Gut your grandparents’ rights;
Gut your parents’ rights;
Gut all our rights 
     Until none of us has 
          Any rights at all 
               And the reincarnation of 
                    Hitler arrives to
Gut America and all 
     America’s rights.

It has been said that evil
is not creative. In fact,
it is the ultimate in
predictability and mundanity
and that we get lulled
into acceptance of
evil by its banality.
Evil is boring to begin
and then horrifying in the end.
Is that why we are now hearing
about how predictable everything is
coming out of that mouth of his,
the (p)-resident, that is?

No one is accepting      blame 
 
    for anything.   Anxiety               flies.
Hopes 
           plummet.    Fingers  point —— 

They are arguing more and more. 

The dog doesn’t wag her tail      much. 

Fear grows. 

Even melodic notes of 
               light classical music 
                                sound 
						staccato 
with undue bravado —- violence     even. 

Tchaikovsky isn’t so sad in Pathetique 

as much as really, 
                   really, 
                   really                mad  

and then he died. The always 
cheery commentator
won’t tell you the 
truth about it; it’s fake
news.   

The (p)-resident is 
about to enter Fifth Ave. 
with a high-powered
military rifle and shoot
while the crowd of red-
capped white
people cheers. 

The skin begins to                itch. 
It won’t stop                     itching 
and she won’t stop                scratching 

until the skin is         gone,
the flesh is              gone, 
and she hits the          bone.

* image of allergies (as a metaphor) from a poem 
about anxiety