The Last Election

Suppose there are no returns, 
and the candidates, one 
by one, drop off in the polls, 
as the voters turn away, 
each to his inner persuasion. 

The frontrunners, the dark horses, 
begin to look elsewhere, 
and even the President admits 
he has nothing new to say; 
it is best to be silent now. 

No more conventions, no donors, 
no more hats in the ring; 
no ghost-written speeches, 
no promises we always knew 
were never meant to be kept. 

And something like the truth, 
or what we knew by that name- 
that for which no corporate 
sponsor was ever offered- 
takes hold in the public mind. 

Each subdued and thoughtful 
citizen closes his door, turns 
off the news. He opens a book, 
speaks quietly to his children, 
begins to live once more. 

--John Haines  (1999) 

Dog Songs (quotes)

 “Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as well as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?”

“And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old—or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give. ”

― Mary Oliver

from her book Dog Songs

[Photo of Riley, Anya, Maui, Tsali, and Cali]

Pity the Nation

 (after Khalil Gibran)

Pity the nation whose people are sheep,
and whose shepherds mislead them.
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars, whose sages are silenced,
and whose bigots haunt the airwaves.
Pity the nation that raises not its voice,
except to praise conquerors and acclaim the bully as hero
and aims to rule the world with force and by torture.
Pity the nation that knows no other language but its own
and no other culture but its own.
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed.
Pity the nation — oh, pity the people who allow their rights to erode
and their freedoms to be washed away.
My country, tears of thee, sweet land of liberty!

— Lawrence Ferlinghetti (2007)

Becoming

 

Water becomes rain,

And then becomes stream,

Which then becomes river,

Becomes ocean,

Becomes mist,

Becomes fog,

Becomes rain,

Which slides down the rocks,

And is taken into the ground,

And then taken up by the plants,

Animals and birds and people.

It becomes the sweat of the brow,

And the tears slipping down,

Upon a shirt that has been slept in.

Evaporating into air,

It remains invisible for a while. Then,

After a time,

It becomes dew which burns off

As the liquid sun rises,

Becoming mist,

Becoming cloud,

Becoming rain.

Nothing is ever really gone,

It only transforms.

--carrie newcomer

Kindness

 

Kindness is human size,

Honest and doable,

Softening even the hardest of days,

The country cousin to love,

Unpretentious,

And daily,

And completely possible.

It takes out its earbuds

And listens to your story.

It gives up its seat on the bus

And hums in the kitchen,

Washing dishes when nobody asked it to.

And more often than not,

If I start with a little kindness

Love is usually following

Just a few steps behind,

Nodding and smiling

And saying,

"That's the way it's done."

"Yes, honey,

That's the way it is done."

--carrie newcomer

Democracy

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean

I love the country but I can't stand the scene.

And I'm neither left or right

I'm just staying home tonight,

getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags

that Time cannot decay,

I'm junk but I'm still holding up

this little wild bouquet:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming through a hole in the air,

from those nights in Tiananmen Square.

It's coming from the feel

that this ain't exactly real,

or it's real, but it ain't exactly there.

From the wars against disorder,

from the sirens night and day,

from the fires of the homeless,

from the ashes of the gay:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming through a crack in the wall;

on a visionary flood of alcohol;

from the staggering account

of the Sermon on the Mount

which I don't pretend to understand at all.

It's coming from the silence

on the dock of the bay,

from the brave, the bold, the battered

heart of Chevrolet:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming from the sorrow in the street,

the holy places where the races meet;

from the homicidal bitchin'

that goes down in every kitchen

to determine who will serve and who will eat.

From the wells of disappointment

where the women kneel to pray

for the grace of God in the desert here

and the desert far away:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Sail on, sail on

O mighty Ship of State!

To the Shores of Need

Past the Reefs of Greed

Through the Squalls of Hate

Sail on, sail on, sail on, sail on.

It's coming to America first,

the cradle of the best and of the worst.

It's here they got the range

and the machinery for change

and it's here they got the spiritual thirst.

It's here the family's broken

and it's here the lonely say

that the heart has got to open

in a fundamental way:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

It's coming from the women and the men.

O baby, we'll be making love again.

We'll be going down so deep

the river's going to weep,

and the mountain's going to shout Amen!

It's coming like the tidal flood

beneath the lunar sway,

imperial, mysterious,

in amorous array:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

Sail on, sail on ...

I'm sentimental, if you know what I mean

I love the country but I can't stand the scene.

And I'm neither left or right

I'm just staying home tonight,

getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags

that Time cannot decay,

I'm junk but I'm still holding up

this little wild bouquet:

Democracy is coming to the U.S.A.

--Leonard Cohen

Self-Analysis

 

How did I do? How did I do?

I did real good
I did great!
I smashed him

Poor guy didn’t even wake up

He’s on drugs

You know I don’t do drugs.

How did I do? How did I do?

I made such an impression

I must have made so much money tonight

You’re not even gonna believe it.

Maybe I should get me a new golf course,

a new hotel, a new casino,

maybe a new golden plane

with golden faucets,

and then I’m gonna put my golden name on it

and, with a golden pen,

I’m gonna write it all off.

I’m a reverse Midas!

How did I do? How did I do?

I know I did just fine.

Just like my tax return

When I win, I brag

When I lose, I deduct

So even when I lose, I win

And even when I win, I whine.

It is what it is 

I’m, like, an extremely smart person.

--Sergio Peçanha