justice

 justice is a tiny thing

a grain of sand, a simple heart
let the guy change lanes in front of you
he may be dealing with more weight of debt
than you could ever forget
help the crusty man carry a smile
the old woman with her bags of regret

kindness is a magic of brown leaves
falling from the sky
a warm hand, open and full
heals every single one of us

truth is asking how and why
justice, again, is a hut built
in the shelter of the now
we huddle, together
need to human need

the reason I do not dabble much in politics and protest

the world

will wander where it will

the continental plates beneath the plates

always pointing

to impossible, unexpected endings

wholeness, resolution

Einstein's #4

a muted voice -- Kate Bush who'd easily 

go Running Up that Hill

the frigid air from the cooling vent

the rotating cast of customers

buying bagel sandwiches

bagels with cream cheese schmear

a baker's dozen of assorted bagels

doggie bagel treats

at the Einstein Bagels

by the Heinen's store

by the Erie Island Cafe

by the snazzy Old River Shopping district

right on the border of stodgy Rocky River

and progressive, authentic Lakewood

I come here a couple of times a week

relax with food and coffee

read, write, and occasionally

catch a surprising songbite on the overhead speakers

Future Islands

Death Cab for Cutie

Modest Mouse

slightly askew of corporate fare

here are a group of people

I know but don't know

tasty brunch on a round, sliced roll

and music that sometimes

hedges on sublime

line 'em up

sometimes they align

in such a way

chaos theory proves itself

the beauty of clouds

streaks like steak filets

lined up on the grill

mountains of mist

piled up behind them

foreboding, like older brothers

protecting younger siblings

and somewhere in this region of sky

a rhombus of clear blue

cut out of the conventional

freedom, always a gift

hard-won, breath-taking

the goldfinch

 We get into some pretty deep conversations

My therapist and I

It’s not so much about

How I am doing, what happened in my childhood

In my week, but –

How can I be helpful in this insane world

What is this world

Who am I in relationship to it?

 

I am happy today, we seem to be getting to solutions

Ways I can improve my life, while I have not been trusting

That anything can improve

 

At a poignant moment in our discussion

A small bird flies up to the sill outside

I note a gold streak on its breast –

Not a sparrow, if sparrows could even fly to the 4^th floor

 

I call it to Marie’s attention

She looks, “by God, is that a goldfinch?”

It’s so tiny, so fast

It’s hard to get a scope on it

But it is a rare sighting

And the poor thing seems to be trying

To get inside the office, hovering for a half minute

save this world

let's do this together

let's make this happen

like we've seen in every movie

post-dating Star Wars and many before

like that blind-flying scene

feel the force

feel your longing

your love, with your full body knowing

let's make this happen

1    2     3

save this shimmering, ghost world

two for naught, with a tinge of glowing affect

the sky tonight, Matthew-catholic

rains like real men cry

blues shed their macho b.s.

grey interlaced

sun lost somewhere

in the thick grove

of gulls and electric wire, crucified

------

it's okay

the cold, a little damp

in the spring air

brings back the recognition

that life is not always cheerful

all will not last

indeed, happiness

as illusory as suffering

cannot be willed

or worked for, bought

or caught, but only received

as it passes, a dense forest

giving way to a cloudless sky

over a field and a pond

through the window

of a speeding train