love the moment

america the beautiful and the poets down here don't write nuthin at all they just stand back and let it all be..   Jungleland Bruce Sprinsteen on Born to Run Released August 25, 1975 the watchers are weary   they've scheduled sabbaticals to recharge their cells the healers are contagious long ago infected by those they treat the mothers are weeping their suckled breasts left dry by incessant worries the fathers are busy there is no game for shooting the forest was ravaged by semi-automatic rifles and high-capacity clips the children are broken their snotty noses untended they'll be fine Darwin was right only the strong survive dg 2/24/13 only the weak should bear the sword the strong enjoy it too much  

untimely easter i broke my arm in 7th grade falling, falling off a neighbor's rope swing i cracked my ankle in my sophomore year college hijinks only dormitories know the first healed nicely the cast removed after the appointed time the ankle, untreated, bothers me still scars and aches  reminders of an injured past now grateful fingers caress an older soul resurrections acknowledged healed wounds remembered and celebrated  like the birth of a miracle child dg 2/24/13

There is no policeman in my bedroom There is no killing bird hiding in the sky There is no priest or preacher Judging imagined sin Nor lusting after my children There are no raging men Paid by dark lords To speak unending lies Hateful slander Empty truths The is no unchecked greed Spoiling lands Fouling waters Selling food that does not feed In my dream Martin is alive Bobby is president And even the poorest immigrant Is free But I awaken It was only a dream That passes like smoke from birthday candles dg 2/14/13

i have pushed my soul so deeply down, down held underwater to drown like an unwanted puppy or an inconvenient truth demands, insistent like a sadistic boss or a beautifully dependent kiss require certain measures virginal sacrifices made executions amputations expulsions of things unwanted but with no guarantee they will not be missed "Over our lives, we are many people", said the famous writer in the NY Times Sunday Review I took note be careful what you kill resurrection is a myth birth and death and all the living in between these are the verities that should be your only lovers dg 1/6/2013