In clear dawn’s prescient light I saw
Integrity of man withdraw,
Withdraw from that integral grace
Illuminated in that place.
A clear blue light in silhouette
Of moon and mountain pirouette,
A truthfulness of stark relief
Quite unencumbered by deceit.
Unencumbered by the paws
Of those who bare discordant claws,
They who twist God’s clear blue light
To manifest their grip on might,
Those who would, quite by perchance,
Enlist oblivion’s nuclear dance.

This hanging crescent moon aloft
Above our mountain’s darkened croft,
Delicately etched in vivid glow
Of promised new dawn’s velvet show…..
Dependant now on exchanged themes
Of thermonuclear warfare’s screams.

But then…..
Old soldiers call from War afar
To we who listen, jaw ajar,
To wisdom earnt by good blood spilt
Be of Field Grey or Scottish Kilt…..

“Fight no more this curse of War”
They, from beyond the  grave, implore,
“We sacrificed our youth for thee
So thou might dwell in harmony”

In clear dawn’s prescient light they saw
A slit of sunshine’s open door,
Where sanity, just, could pave the way
For laughter’s peal to save this day.

M.
“Lest We Forget “
ANZAC Day
25 April 2017
HAMILTON, NEW ZEALAND

All Roads lead to Salvatore
A Poem by Corset


On the way to Salvatore
I was cracked
A diamond with her head down
pops another piece of gum
makes light of the crest
makes the sign of the cross
across her window pane breast
forever more
Gooseberry products only
she swears
the scratch of her voice
a sonnet of fingernails
on chalkboard
"there are no teachers here "
says she
only nightmares of agriculture"
and the slow lonely climb,
limbs bowing to the knees.
acquiesce of leaves
holding on in vertigo
skinny dipping the night air.

Bertram tells you to ram it
his balcony tilted
like a slot machine
a glimpse of clothes drying
on a Taiwan breeze
ran into a tree
"don't be afraid"  says he
"it won't feel a thing"

You keep your voice down
still it drowns the radio
while fashion jewelry
lift their pointed legs
it's pepper on a dying mans steak
we dare to be sub-standard
people are shouting
we will do our best
to make sure promises are not kept,
to honor the test subjects
we will build a barn
threaten the faculty
with time honored contingency
and look forward to the *****
side of fact.

We shall take our time,
scoffing behind our hands
we know
if a person can not be themselves
they tend to be someone else...
suffering.,
surely there must be a way to
pin this tail on the donkey,
or at least the blunt
blonde official, when you
get a close up
you can tell how old
she is.

A trillion lights bid hasty reflection
The bowed following preordained paths to
cardboard suburbia , under jet fuel rain , gnashed
in misery , some oxycontin follower , worshippers of Herod , rock ***** payback in five dollar denominations
A trick , a spittle of ***** in a ladle drawing gold from a coat pocket
Like a child's first snow , the learners license , naked in city lake
Kings with chewed teeth , bottom feeders in search of a vein , convenient Christ for **** and Jane , peanut butter for crustless sandwiches and taxed brains
Anarchy dreams , Presidential schemes , Syrian children burnt beyond
recognition , American pregnant teens , what would Jesus do ?
He's left us to our own devices* ...

Oh, those poor
peasants
without a ***
to **** in
who celebrate their
thin-skinned twittering
king ascending
in his gilded elevator
of gold stolen
from the empty plates
of those
who do pay taxes
with real axes
to grind
it boggles my mind
just what in
the hell
could they have been
thinking
I mean, Sweet
Jesus, we'll all be
refugees
in the end.


Where e're we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees,
From fear of priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies.

--Shane MacClowan, "Thousands Are Sailing"

i'm wandering nyack in search of
poems. i like it when the full moon
and the lights on the tappan zee bridge  
reflect off the hudson.

nights like that, the tides sing me something
inescapable, and my legs take me down the
steep part of main street, east of broadway,
and i stand on the undulating dock and
let the waves pass through me as i scream
song lyrics or memorized poems until
the water calms me. saltwater has a way
of reminding me of deep secret histories.
my mitochondria all remember
being born somewhere like this.

not tonight, though.

it's cloudy and the sky is whispering
but he spits when he talks and
i thought spring was out tonight
but she went home early because she forgot her wallet

all i can find is
drunk strangers and
beer i don't like

few things reduce you
like so many unfamiliar faces
in a familiar place

inspiration tiptoes
out my pores in fine droplets,
evaporates; leaves behind a salt-crust of
voiceless hollow, so
i go for a walk
letting the almost-rain try to rinse it
from my bare forearms, calves, cheeks

i don't find any poems tonight,
only a feeling of