Posts for June 20, 2020 (page 3)

The longest day
of the quarantine year,
still we reel from that
contagious spring.
Heat rises off of every
sizzling surface, hours
crawl as if to conserve
spent calories. Does
Earth turn or did it
take an early evening
nod? Sun holds us
in our orbits lest
we spin into oblivion,
parched of thirst
and raw with entropy.
Trajectories all garbled 
on smoking radar screens.
This already, two hours in,
a summer like we’ve never seen.
We hold these truths to be
self evident, but in stasis
do our lives now cling.

            MORNING MEDITATION

CHOICE OUTSIDE STRIVING
Heàdphones snug. Padded mimicry.
Choice outside striving. God’s dream surface. 
fierce as flame. apart from them. quenched
and drowned. a wreath of smoke. 
 eye see the way. wide ocean reach. soft
organ play.
THE DIN OUTSIDE
 cars on wet street. whooshing tires.
engine hum. beneath our hearing. merely 
known. cross purpose red. black hard lines.
tired old men. young girls walk. young men
watch. no work today. no judgement words.
akimbo. ascatter.
A MEMORY

strange metal–
bends, won’t break.
cool under intese heat.
symbols like hieroglyphs.

no moving parts
inside the craft.
three small chairs.
no windows or screens.

second craft found.
one survivor.
two bodies.
no blood.

first craft found.
no survivors.
three bodies.
civilian contact
under armed guard.

Wright-Patterson
received first craft.
delayed leaks to paper:
Operation Skycrack

Area 50 
recieved second craft
and survivor.
leak location as
Area 51.
 
maintain plausible
deniability–
there is no
Area 50.

My mother’s birthday is tomorrow
She was born in ‘67 or ‘68
I can never remember

The first day of summer
In a hospital full of nuns
In Ohio
Delivered by a Karen
So they named her Karen

Most people would call
Most people would visit
But she’s an awful person
Who’s name is Karen

So I’m going to pass

When I think of you
a smile graces
my lips,
but tears
often
fall.

The day begins, neon tangerinepink sun
rising over big water. The kid loses her last baby tooth.

It is so big and so small in her hand. She tongues
the bloody gap. The street is COVID and Juneteenth,

Black Lives Matter and Pride. This bridge is tear gas
and rainbows, raised fists and people admitting

they didn’t know. The light is full on. I hear her
upstairs, clacking away with her practice butterfly knife.

Like so many,
she decided to bake bread.
A forgotten skill
from her hippie days
when beer and bread
were the only necessities.

She found her old cookbook,
it opened up to so many memories
as grease-stained and ragged
as its pages.

She knew the kneading
was what she needed now,
the dough a glistening ball
so active and alive.

there’s a silly little line
on my stupid silver lip.
serenading sirens, their
serrated screams slip-
seeking out stranger stars
because the saviors are asleep.

after feckless bones  
disappear in dust
I’ll stare down
from a distant star
at the empty plain
and marvel at things
that made me jealous

Today, June 20, 2020 of the Gregorian calendar
our Summer Solstice

the day which marks the longest daylight day
of the year in the Northern Hemisphere as a result
of maximum tilt and positioning of Earth’s axis
relative to our closest largest star, the Sun
giving Alaska in the USA boasting rights for most daylighted hours

Today also marks the first day of any summer in my lifetime
met with a scary pandemic, utterly disheartening civil unrest, 
and dangerous political firestorms–
a life-sucking miasma of consequences and questions

an astronomical summer start to be sure

but the sunshine this first day
is the thing of hope which warms
my face and greets my heart with
grand possibilities for answers
life-giving opportunities to prevail
if we only rise to the challenges and
step out of the shadows–
perpetual summer solstice