wet morning

at sunrise the ghosts fold themselves up
neatly like pressed shirts and then insert
themselves into their designated slots
in no-space
                                the rain has its own spirits
glum sour-faced beings that delight in slippage

at least no thunder

there are messages in those wet clinging leaves
none any more in those piled on the ground
i watch the drip from underneath the eaves
there's something sad and mournful in the sound
the trees are living skeletons grasping at birds
that pass by in formation heading further south
i juggle in my mind the necessary words
it seems i taste them in my thirsty mouth
the backs of houses seem all beige and sad
the steady drip gives them a hang-dog look
i turn back to my work and then feel glad
in finding the right concepts in the book
i cast my mind back to this morning's train
and think of those who journey in this rain

(no subject)

we begin with a simple assumption that each of us has a heart
an organ that we know pumps a lot more than blood
hope and compassion jointly flow within us from the start

we've been too long isolate stayed far too long apart
our veins unpurged have all filled up with crud
we begin with a simple assumption that each of us has a heart

to show the right way to each other now that is the proper art
minds still know their places though feet are stuck in the mud
hope and compassion jointly flow within us from the start

each us us can know the answers hard though it be at the start
still we know what's our duty to save the child from the flood
we begin with a simple assumption that each of us has a heart

we require each other's society not merely to meet at the mart
against those who would separate us we close the door with a thud
hope and compassion jointly flow within us from the start

to throw off our burdens together knowing we'll each play our part
means that we have understanding that no heart is ever a dud
we begin with a simple assumption that each of us has a heart
hope and compassion jointly flow within us from the start

observation with extended view

now that the trees don't obstruct the view
what we have to see is the human creation
it's always been there nothing is new
but now it appears as a sort of salvation
beyond the railings mud and leaves and grass
then bush and houses and past that the street
we wait like the high birds for time to pass
and then to our next tasks will turn our feet
the watchman guards the night but not the day
yet the soft sunlight leaves a great deal hidden
time to be sure that we have found the way
before we learn for sure that it's forbidden
what modern or what ancient power would show
us is that we have come just a bit too slow

Still we will win

We've wasted lives, but if we waste some more
we'll reach our goal of triumph over evil;
this time it won't be the same as just before.
We know our enemy's a quite clever devil
but not as smart as us, no sir, we're smarter
than all those camel jockeys put together.
You say that our plan now is a non-starter
but we will make them all run hell-for-leather.
Our allies need some stiffening, that's for sure,
but we can give them that and like a hammer
come down on those who think they can endure
our power and throw their kids into the slammer.
So what if those kids die, they don't really count
in all our calculations. Let the numbers mount.