Sunday, September 17, 2017
You will never be forgotten,
Nor will Hank and Tennessee….
Gentile, passionate men of the south,
Those Williams’s boys are history,
Rest in peace Don Williams,
Your lyrics echo in my mind…
Back to your Pozo Seco days
Lamenting the passage of time.
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
There exist ancient written pages,
Rubbed out and written over anew.
Histories reimagined again,
On a new political point of view.
Palimpsests, exist still, in the digital age,
Made easier with the backspace key…
Politicians rewrite facts daily now,
The words on top, newest history.
My earliest poetry in journals,
Reflects decades of pain and tears.
My latest erasures and overwrites,
Repaint these days as my greatest years.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Embraced today by loving hands,
Each one held a cloth tape measure.
They circled my thighs, chest and stomach;
The arc of my hunchback at leisure.
They measured my sugar levels;
Banned all my sources of pleasure…
While plotting my life expectancy,
They requested an ink eraser.
Most of their estimations,
Are created by mathematic design.
Blood clots, car wrecks and bear attacks
Determine also the end of the of the line.