House Arrest 17 (Ottava Rima)

House Arrest

It’s hard to be a fan of bureaucrats –
we’ve made them rigid figures, comically.
But now they’re stand-up heroes, on the mats
of surreal contests, speaking honesty
to power. Clerks and agents in white hats
are damming up the ooze of tyranny.
(I never dreamed when I was young and high
there’d come a day I’d laud the FBI).

The evil force, the darkest energy,
erupts from the administrative branch
in tweets of petulance and calumny,
sustained by senators who fail to stanch
the turpitude, and make a mockery
of fairness, so bad choices avalanche,
and then they blame the past, or even try
to throw beneath the bus the FBI.

Accustomed to appreciate all first
responders, liking teachers, thanking vets,
we’re noticing cashiers in stores, well-versed
in extra sanitation, pulling sets
in tough conditions nobody rehearsed,
garbage men at work. No one forgets
the valiant nurses, treating on the fly,
more Herculean than the FBI.

And given that the feds are worse than mute,
that states and subdivisions have to pitch
this battle, there’s no proper substitute
for individual response. The which
is all: cooperation or a brute
defiance – ignorance too vain to switch
or stupid, like a Trumper or a guy
more into keggers than the FBI.

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Committee for Unintended Consequences

220px-Cerebral_lobes[1]

It’s obvious our species has evolved
through paths of unintended consequence.
We own a history of having solved
some problems, met some challenges with sense,
but then results go otherwise than planned.
The car that moves us far: extinguished birds
who wintered on the grains in horseshit; canned
communities; killed culture with the ‘burbs.

Examples of short-sightedness abound –
in fact we don’t need wisdom to succeed.
I’ll claim a new committee we should found,
to list the possibilities we breed
with institutions, regulations, laws.
Let’s brainstorm consequence, and counter flaws.

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House Arrest 16 (Coronavirus Iris)

Coronavirus Iris

My family has normal temperatures –
we understand the power of apart.
Awaiting new vaccines and symptom cures,
we’re staying in our separate homes but start
to suffer cabin fever, one and all.
We want to eat together, and embrace –
we doubt we can sustain this break till fall –
we need to kiss, for real, each other’s face.

Allowed to step outside for exercise,
we’re scrutinizing yard and neighborhood,
and what presents is candy for the eyes.
All vistas stem from spring; the garden’s good
with signs of life and health. The iris blooms.
We carry purple visions to our rooms.

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House Arrest 15 (A Little Sale)

House Arrest

In solitary combat with the curse
Coronavirus, home alone and clean,
and knowing consequences could be worse
but clueless what the cancellations mean,
long-term, in jobs and economic pain,
inhaling headlines made me short of breath.
I saw investments sink and not regain.
I added fear of poor to dread of death.

Forecasting just how bad the loss might be,
I knew I had to gather facts, decide
to keep or sell. I logged in quietly,
set pessimism off till clarified,
and moved to cash a morsel, nothing much,
but now I feel a little more in touch.

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Sad Anger

220px-Cerebral_lobes[1]

My son was almost three when I got sick
enough for surgery and weeks away.
I ached for him – if I had had my pick,
they would have brought my boy to where I lay.
When I came home at last he wouldn’t leave;
he slept upon the rug beside my bed.
His face contorted as he learned to grieve
and season love with anger in his head.

And now, among pandemic global melt,
my son is grown and rears a toddler three
years old, contending with disruption felt
by all, but understood imperfectly
in childhood. It hurts to watch him change
from glee to muddled grief, as we derange.

Posted in Cognition, Coronaverse, Family, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

House Arrest 14 (Haiku)

House Arrest

The
bug’s
holding
sway,
alas,
too
long.
Keep
6
feet
away
to
succeed.

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House Arrest 13 (Ode Perverse)

House Arrest

I check the weather forecast every day
(a walker wants to know what gear to wear),
and since the autumn fires, it’s my way
to note pollution levels in the air.
What I assumed was excellent was not;
most midday readings came up “moderate”
(although the sky was blue, it wasn’t “good”
I saw on weather apps). But now a lot
of cars are parked and factories have quit:
clean atmosphere befalls my neighborhood.

In Venice, the Lagoon has clarified.
In China skies are lightening from brown.
Less market density, new methods tried,
each city shrinks as people hunker down.
And lately there’s a healing to the earth.
Coyotes gather under flocks of crows,
and thoroughfares are empty to the bay.
Of parties and assemblies we’ve a dearth,
and where contagion leads nobody knows,
except we’ll see tomorrow, come what may.

Comparatively quiet now, without
the backup beeps, or students’ raucous yells,
I see pedestrians but hear no shout
or words in anger. Now no driver tells
another how to park or merge. They’re mute
as absence, rare as planes allowed to fly.
The silence is relief; it settles me.
Today the peril’s global and acute,
but chronic future stares us in the eye,
and maybe we can shape our destiny.

Our senses are replenishing, these weeks.
They warn us to develop new techniques.

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The Neighbor’s Cat

Neighbor Cat

The neighbors have a cat that lives outside
as if it were an apex beast of prey,
evolved to wanton feats of avicide,
and tearing plants his collar pulls away
from trellises or tangles with the hose,
refining talons scoring post and gate,
depositing his shit between the rows
I look upon. I sometimes hate
the neighbor’s cat, who clearly has in mind
an uninvited tour inside my place.
In fact the cat is lovely, for its kind:
a silken white-and-black; a leap of grace.
But I don’t want to see his teeth or claws.
We call the species “house cat” with good cause.

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House Arrest 12 (Rondine)

House Arrest

We’re not dead yet, although we weren’t wise.
We made our cities grow beyond control,
created business body with no soul,
threw airplanes packing virus in our skies.
The pessimists exhibit no surprise;
the cheerful try yet sighing to console –
We’re not dead yet.

We teeter on the cusp of the demise
of systems good for few exploiting whole
communities. The autocrats cajole
as if we’re listening to their replies.
We’re not dead yet.

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House Arrest 11 (Roundel)

House Arrest

Is this too close to an apocalypse?
Have we been travel-arrogant too much?
Too global with a handshake and a kiss?
Is this too close?

The flu we thought we knew was never such.
It brought us down but not to an abyss.
Coronavirus has us in its clutch.

We had to build our fear to get to this,
but finally we’re learning not to touch.
We’re missing hugs and most togetherness.
Is this too close?

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