Planet of the Apes
last night the rain fell
in heavy drops as we all stood
some friends and I and others
listening to the poets read
dark, angry musics
condemning the current
political situation
and what to them seemed
systemic, seemed
endemic to
the whole of Western Civilization at least
if not all of human civilization in general
life itself perhaps
succeeds on the backs
of the vanquished, the weak or
simply unlucky
think of new
peonies, their
clenched hands
stretching up
to grasp what
light they can
each at the
expense of
the other
this morning the rain had stopped
the sky hadn’t exactly cleared
but everyone was gone
a few beer cans
someone had tossed
into the laurel hedge
seemed the only proof
that we had lived
at all
Reading Roethke Where He Died
the seascape
lifted
unlapping
and flooded my
lungs and eyes
what a way
to find Roethke
bloated on
gin rickeys and
chlorine
floating in a
Bloedel pool
till a garden came
and filled with sand
what once was mere
music and
bone