Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Love in a Time of Chaos - Be Excellent to Each Other

I wrote the poem below - Love in a Time of Chaos - some time in the spring of 2018. I wanted to write a love poem that included everything - bringing in the endless chaos.

 The initial impetus of the poem came from seeing the horrific imagery of the dead refugees (mostly children) rolling in the surf on the Greek coast.

War Chaos. Economic Chaos.

This was around the same time that information was just beginning to surface about how the children of refugees and migrants on the southern border of the US were being separated from their parents and caged.

 Xenophobic Chaos.

At the same time, there was a terrible drought here in New Mexico, which only got worse later that summer - many cholla and pinon died on the hills around where I live.

 Climate Change Chaos.

This was around the time that the Trump administration (under John Bolton), disbanded the White House pandemic response team, along with enormous budget cuts to the CDC, th NIH, and the WHO.  

  Idiot vs. Idiot
Chaos from Ignorance.
Chaos from Greed.

Is love possible without including everything? 
Can love exist in a bubble?

Because of the current Coronavirus Chaos
we are all in each other's hands now.

Love doesn't exist in a bubble. 


Love in a time of Chaos

 for Michaela


Dust reaches the height
of every peak: brown haze,
shifting silhouettes. Some
kind of dark magic; danger,
confusion; and ecstasy
(that eerie light inside a
wall of dust that reveals
the wall to us, to itself).

Blossoms and bees and ashes


A chair sails across stone.
Moans from the mouth
of an empty bucket. New
creatures rise out
of the dark, sink back,
and you touch my hand.
We hold each other
to the bed.

Moths and cigarette butts and
bird bones whirl…


History is the tantalizing
scent of rain. Promise
of rain (not the actuality)
liberates everything.
The angry dead rise
to the surface to drink,
again. We are the gasp
of water as it hits stone.

Cicadas and war medals and
crushed beer cans whirl…


A black ant carries a
transparent angel's wing
(so small…angel's wings
are so small these days),
and we tell each other
our dreams: words like
caves. Cool relief. Relief
and terror.

Cat's eyes and drones and
nail parings whirl…


We are earth, un-
earthed; sky, un-skied;
lies, un-lied; with salt
on the skin, without salt;
with water on the tongue,
without water; with
bodies turning in the surf;
with turning away,

without turning away,
we whirl…


 Italian Grandmother's suggestions on Coronavirus

 Listen to her.

 And Be Excellent to Each Other.

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