I watch Biden, Kerry, Bill and BOh. Beyonce
And many a fake wool muffler shuffle past
As I type this now.
YouTube is a treasure.
A strange man-bag held up to snap Michelle
Contains a camera behind mesh. I think she thinks him
Also strange.
Now Paul Ryan, sobered, seeming not to mind
The sniff of Ms. Knowles colored hair
And frozen air.
Inauguration Day is through.
All seems well in the cradle of a nation where
Every one assembled as if body heat
Was glue.
Four-and-twenty ripples 'round our spinning earth
Stopping next to spill weak light on pulse takers
In another vein:
Wrapped in nothing but resolve, observers
Whose steady plans push them to death
While their own thin wrists beat on.
Heroes nameless to but few,
'Cause who would celebrate what they do?
Crazed with much too much ado
They market heinous truth.
This day, for them, is more abhorrent
Than all the fifty million dead and gone;
It taps them on the head and taunts "Doe won."
So weaker ones like me decide to cry and
Rage at God for seeming not to care that heroes die.
And then we beg for hope that light would dawn.
Recall that Mary Travers wouldn't help when
Asked if sublime tunes might write themselves;
Now her mean aspect molders in the grave,
Maybe reconsidered light could twist upout from in her cave?
Life seeks light,
And, if this dead-like City On A Mound
Bothers to notice Mason's bleeding nails,
Tendrils offered to the sun god could emerge
From Mary's hype to reach and catch some nerve.
