1.
A transparent banner
floats above a peaceful field,
no controversy in the stone.
She runs outside to give
the kids a treat, her hands
full of night and day, water
tumbling in the cleft.
These are my politics.

2.
Grey day, road tree and sky
the same no color. Up to us
to bring religion in again,
light the candle, rouge the lips.

3.
It’s all about money
this government stuff,
we all know that
so let’s think about something
else instead, music, say,
or where I left my wallet
last night, or who was
Robin Hood really, and could
you do all that with an arrow?

4.
The litmus of morning
specifies the mind.
I am identified—the window
recognizes my right to see.
For all I know I could be me. 

5.
Brave as a drunkard
I wave the flag again,
no sign on me, no dream
to clutter my clarity.
Yes, I say, why not?

6.
Don’t be cynical,
there are aunts in the parlor,
Rose and Sarah,
Uncle Seymour, cousin Norman,
they’ve been around a long while
and know what I can only
hope to guess.
Something missing in me,
I can never be them.

7.
Sky gets lighter
gets the earth darker.
8 A.M. if anybody wants to know,
this is a love song,
how could it not be,
you being so beautiful
and I lonely as a monk’s
hand holding his rosary.
One day after another
and each one counts as prayer.

8.
Dear Diana
you spread your arms
over the city,
you let us read
the lines in your palm
as if they show our fate too,
our nature I mean
and the birds fly by
and the rain sweeps your image
but you do not relent,
you keep your arms wide open,
welcoming, offering
the single gesture that will save us all
if we could learn to do it too,
come to my arms, read my hands.

9.
By now my flag
is smudged a little
with beliefs.
Still dim enough
to keep headlights on.
Time is a box
we unpack at our leisure—
call it ‘art’ to be obvious,
or Scarlatti on the cellphone
or the big creek at Wanatanka
pouring into the river,
wide, wide, I seem to sob
seeing it, remembering the sea.

30 November 2020