Spoiler Alert

You already know

What will happen.

It’s more 

Like a rerun 

Than a new

Show

Of thoughts

And prayers

After 

Each Episode.

Now every day

Is spoiled

By mass murders

En masse.

Families forever

Ruined.

Communities shattered.

And those 

Who relish

Spoiling

The possibility

Of success

Of an opponent

Will stand by

Horror,

And allow

Us

To be terrorized

By the tyranny

Of the crazed

With weapons

Of war

In anywhere,

USA

Any time

Because 

Freedom

To terrorize,

Maim,

And brutally

Murder

Innocent

Actual children

And their friends,

And teachers,

And preachers,

And relatives

Is freedom 

Of their

Sort.

Demand action

From every

Leader

And

Neighbor

And

Person

You know.

Spoiler alert:

For Mothers’ Day

I honored

My mother

With Contributions

To Moms Demand Action

For Gun Safety

And to the

Brigid Alliance.

Moms are being attacked,

And dare I say

Tortured 

Daily,

By fear

And actual assault

On bodily autonomy

Of themselves

And of their living

Kin.

My mother and father

Taught their children

To participate

And contribute

And improve 

Our communities.

I relish the gifts

My mother

Continues

To share with me

That inspire me

Each day.

You don’t need

Me to alert you

To those who

Would rather

Spoil our capacity

To live safely

Than limit

The possibility of 

One less

Shooting.

Demand better.

Do something.

Anything.

Don’t expect

Someone else

To contribute

Or sign

Or call

Or protest

So it’s done.

Sorry to spoil

It for you,

But your inaction

Is complicity.

Just like 

Thoughts

And

Prayers. 

At least 

For Mothers’ Day

Please do something

To contribute

To stopping

The current

Insanity

Killing us

Daily

While expressing

Condolences.

Scream Too

Why didn’t you scream?

(Subtext: 

If you were really

Raped,

You would have

Screamed.)

For help…

From Pain…

It’s 2023

I want 

To scream,

At the persistence

Of the insistence

Of blaming

Actual

Victims

While Claiming

To be the one

Attacked.

Of all the ways

To cross

Examine,

Why didn’t you scream?

Exposes the truth:

Not everyone is

A screamer.

I want 

To scream too

When the dignity

Of human

Life

Is ascribed to

A fetus

And not to

The woman

Or girl

Who is pregnant.

Ignoring

Medical realities,

Much less care

For women and girls

Or really anyone

After being born,

Is inhumane.

The guy 

Who just 

Walks up to

Women 

After a tic tac

And kisses

Them,

And says

He justs

Grabs them

By the pussy,

Probably did

Not have

A traumatic 

Experience 

That defined

The rest of

Life

From that

Time in

The dressing 

Room.

Women’s experiences

Have too long

Been silenced

Or taught

To be silent.

The courageous

Women

Who 

This week

Stepped forward

Not to scream

But to tell

Of the inhumanity

Of being denied

Speaks volumes

About those who

Minimize what women

And girls continue

To endure,

And ensure

That women

And girls

Have little to no

Say.

Why don’t

We scream!

Off Spring

This Spring feels way, way off.


Weather aside, 

this season of renewal 

has been one 

of oppression,

even for what has been

a years-long pattern.

The blooming of authoritarianism

and the reemergence

of overt and repressive

racism and misogyny

seems to have started

with the former

guy.

But of course, 

we know,

that like Fox,

the crazy

needs the audience.

And the audience

has been around

for a long time.

The former guy

became known for

Birtherism,

spreading lies 

for the sake

of stirring up

not merely

opposition,

but

racism

and all manners of hate,

against 

President Barak Obama. 

Trump didn’t invent

Birtherism. 

He saturated the media

with false claims

and false questions.

He wanted to be

the guy 

who wrestled

in the ring 

of public discourse,

coarsening 

the conversations

for everyone.

And this birthed

a candidate

which birthed 

a movement 

front and center

of grievance,

lies, oppression,

even violence,

while raising money

and hoarding

and never-ending

shamelessness

(and crimes)

upending 

and threatening

until….

This climate change

has already devastated,

and the pandemic virus

of authoritarianism

is spreading

around the globe. 

Forget 

RINOs,

now there are 

dinos—

democracies

in name

only.

Well, we see

crocuses of justice

beginning to blossom,

but fear

an off-season

frost

may impede 

healthy blooms

of justice

(despite Thomas, et al).

We thought

a Garland

would braid so much

evidence together

after Trump was

leaving such

an obvious mess,

but the pathetic

and yet 

successful

power grabs 

and conspicuous

cruelty 

and despotism

from every level

of government

flagrantly unleashed

upon the 

innocent,

makes me want

to stay

in the fetal position.

But birth

takes labor.

A LOT of labor.

And pushing.

This Spring

feels off, 

and I want

more than 

a break.

The push

toward justice

and accountability

will require

our insistence,

not merely 

watching or

scrolling

news with nausea.

Do something

to let your reps

know that

American democracy,

racism,

misogyny,

violence,

gun safety,

healthcare

(especially for women),

ethics,

justice,

and more,

matter.

This is Spring

training. 

It’s past

time

to get in the game.

Dusting With Pledge

The  Promised Land

is  broken

beyond recognition

except

to those who broke it. 

The Land of Opportunity

and Promise

is stuck in an

American nightmare

that feels 

Un-American.

Potential

gets thwarted

by  grievance

and History’s

scar tissue

that  causes

pain cycles

inflicting

injury  again

and again.

Human nature

spirals,

spinning,

repeatedly;

twisting

ourselves

in retrograde motions

trying to make 

progress

that feels like

power. 

Promises 

will always

yield

consequences,

intended or  not. 

Abusers know

that  we’re suckers

for promises;

that  intentions

are spoken

or tweeted

like incantations.

Words

create possibilities.

not probabilities,

and we tend

to forget

that words

require

meeting with

reality.

We seek 

promise

and promises.

And  we 

demand 

consequences

when we

become 

broken.

Then the dust

will settle

for a bit.

I promise.

Speak Easy

Watching a period piece,

a drama, set in 1932,

I was oriented in time 

through 

the clothes

the interiors

the accessories

the flasks

the verbiage

the hair

the cars

the phones

the shoes—

every detail that signified

when.

In an era of prohibition,

desires were still satisfied

for the still affluent

and able

class.

Those with means

could frequent

hidden spaces

of freedom;

quarters where spirits

flowed into crystal goblets

and flasks

to hide 

in the outside

world;

jazz inviting

dancing,

in smoke-filled

congested rooms,

where people

could speak

easy

and revel freely

for some hours,

not having to face

profound inequality

or differences

or problems.

Prohibition, 

from 1920-1933,

didn’t curb

behavior

or health.

It invited

crime

and 

stealth.

In 2023,

it should not be

so difficult

to speak

easily 

without prohibition

and

with nuance;

But first we

have to speak

and hear

the truth.

Urgent Care

Today this

hurts.

And yesterday’s

ache

is still 

tender.

My tracker

indicates

sufficient

sleep 

and oxygen,

yet I

gasp

each day

and 

am terribly

aware

of threatening

conditions.

According

to my 

data,

everything

ranges from

good to

optimal.

Apparently,

this is accurate

information

when sleeping.

The data

does not

describe

my being

awake.

Sure,

I can 

see my

heart

rate

at any 

time

of day.

It races,

which 

could become

a hurdle

in itself. 

I am 

unaware

of my 

nocturnal

gasps

for air, 

but I cringe

and tense

myself

with news

with open

eyes

feeling

compelled 

to be 

awake.

I don’t 

really matter

to the news,

but think 

it matters

to me.

Doesn’t it?

I want 

to be

awake

to act

as necessary.

Every day

feels 

urgent

and filled

with issues

about which

to care.

The aches

and pains

and gasps

from each

news

cycle

are symptoms

of a deep

love

and loss

of functionality

of humans.

And nature.

What could be

more urgent

than us

and our

environment

that nourishes

our insides?

No Surprise Party

I claim

to hate

surprises, 

but

I delight

in being

surprised

every day.

Not by

secrets

kept from

me 

suddenly revealed,

but seeing

and hearing

the familiar

people and places

with fresh

eyes and ears. 

I think 

that’s 

the secret

to sustaining

love

and growth,

which 

I easily forget

daily. 

I also

assume,

expect,

and mindlessly

repeat

myself 

daily.

But I do

get moments

each day 

that are revelatory

and worth

savoring.

Beyond

the personal,

our politics

challenges

what we

thought

we knew

about 

ourselves

on some

path 

called

progress.

I am

surprised

by how

unexceptional

we have

revealed

ourselves

to be. 

American 

ideals

are subverted

daily 

as our cold

civil war

rages

with outrageousness

and contempt

and we 

still remain

surprised.

To many,

this prolonged

moment

of doubt,

deception,

hate,

and chaos,

is unexpected;

a shock

or series 

of shocks

to our system.

To others,

the system

has always

allowed

for this.

The culture

wars

are political

and (un)civil;

fought

through

weaponizing

language

and consolidation

of support

further 

othering

and degrading,

ensuring

constant

indignation.

By now

this should be

no surprise.

We should

expect

this fight,

at least

for some

time.

President Biden’s 

surprise

visit to 

Ukraine

was a well

executed

secret

and a

reprieve

from

the dreck

here at home.

I am admittedly

surprised

by relentless

preservation

of anger

and hate.

It’s too 

exhausting

for me, 

But I get

that it is

addicting,

and provides

some

weird

reassurance–

collective (party) ego

reinforcement—

that has 

no room

for surprises. 

Drill Baby, Drill

Thank you,

Sarah

Barracuda,

for your 

intro

course

in being

coarse

as a 

political

strategy.

We thought

you failed

but we

still flail

at the

crude,

rude,

vulgar

ideas,

much less

speech,

intending

to rally

the base.

Baseslessness

and

shamelessness

are weapons

of mass

destruction.

Drilling down

on deception,

extracting

sludge

for the sake

of election,

and when

that doesn’t

work,

then insurrection.

You know

the drill:

Here comes

the next

conspiracy

with remarkable

adherency,

not to 

mention,

attention.

Free speech

is the claim

to seeking

fame

and power.

I don’t know

how to beat

the hate

that comes

with guns

and seeks

to create

a Red

balloon

across

America.

This is

not

a drill.

What the World Needs Now

I used

to think

Cupid

was

stupid;

a mascot

tot

projectiling

weapons

to pierce

hearts.

A day 

of

forced

“love”, 

I thought,

was 

a good

excuse

for selling

stuff.

But in 

the name

of love,

I too

celebrate,

reminding

myself 

to pay 

attention,

and return

to my senses,

especially

mid 

winter. 

Intimacy 

requires

nurturing

(today,

ironically

by a baby).

The kids

remind us

of what

matters:

love.

We inherit

conventions

that we get

to rethink:

I quote

here

the wikipedia

definition

of arrow:

“A typical

arrow

usually consists

of a long,

stiff,

straight

shaft

with a weighty

arrowhead

attached

to the front end.”

“A container

or bag

carrying

additional

arrows

for convenient

reloading

is called

a quiver.”

Love

is not 

forced.

But it is

a force

we must

reckon

with

as we

remember

it’s power

to bring

forth

new life. 

Happy Valentine’s Day!

The Madonna’s Face

Too tight,

too plump,

too weird,

to recognize

the well-known

mother of

invention

of herself

and style.

The changed

name

to ironically

subvert

The Virgin

overtly

with

underwear

as 

outerwear

and the 

semiotics

of the

feminine

as sex.

Baby voiced,

a female

Elvis,

the material

girl,

Marilyn 2.0,

(minus 

any innocence),

creating a verb

from the word

Vogue,

imposing

herself

constantly,

she demands

that the pop

culture

demands

her.

When all

is performance

(and monetized

of course),

why expect

aging

with grace?

Now

her face

consumes

this space

for discourse

about

youth,

and age,

relevance,

the feminine,

sex,

beauty,

legacy,

resistance,

performance,

and art.

She still

has the

ability

to miraculously

hold

the attention

of the masses

when 

attention

is a deficit—

now a cultural

disorder—

that

we obviously

need

to face.