Gun Violence & Other Madness

The cat chases its tail, the dog whimpers in sleep
the heart skips a beat…
It’s not a nightmare, not a movie, a TV show.
Wake when you will
but where will you be,
in bed alone, In the den, your unknowing hand
holding a gun, at your desk starting at nothing?

It doesn’t matter—Looking deeply matters.
Unless you turn it inside out, look long inside, the mind
Eludes the eye of reason.
Recall the flowers of betrayal and delusion
with merciful disregard,
Struggle all your life to save this dying thing
This beaten, bloody thing love.
For the tail is chasing the dog, the cat is barking in sleep
the heart is cracking
Hope is a Gypsy song rising over the ash of Auschwitz

Mad men rule the world—

And if they wake from a coma of hate,
Will they give a vision truth, feed the poor, give us peace?
When will your heart slow to a murmur
and hiss into silence?
I want to say the cat is calm, the dog is happy
We are wise and kind,
But the cat is gnawing the cage
The dog is humming a dirge, the good flower columbine
was never a flock of doves: Littleton, Kosovo
Dachau, Wooded Knee, Kabul, Santa Fe, El Paso,
large extensions of the fist we use to abuse children—

Where next the murder of the day, massacre of the week
The next World War?
The heart is failing, failing, there are no known donors.