Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
                where here is everywhere
        and every time is now.

Caesar’s twin-edged conquests are our own
                as is Brutus’s fickle knife
        and Marc Anthony’s cunning speech.

Plague steals across our Europe
                like a remorseless highwayman -
        rosies all ringed and falling down.

We wait in Wien's Kärntnertor theater
                for Schiller’s An die Freude    
        to shine anew in Beethoven’s score

and are ushered in at Menlo Park
                where Edison's tungsten faintly glows.
        Tomorrow will bring sun to the night.

There's Jonas Salk at his microscope.
                One more test will crack the code
        to banish polio's scourge.

But nature’s caprice strews logs on our roads.
                We are dashed by a Tsunami’s rage.
        Katrina’s torrents have swallowed our homes.

Prides of warriors wade rivers of blood  
                and Darfur bullets tear into our chests.
        Nuclear Toys ‘R Us shelves are fully stocked.

We are the heirs of each triumph and treachery.
                We grasp the keys to tomorrow.
        What have we done? What must we do?

There is no longer any excuse.
In fact, there hasn’t been for a
very long time.

We have seen bloodshed
on soil around the world.  
Over one million lives,
in the name of
freedom,
democracy,
capitalism,
& I can’t quite recall the others
at the moment.

We have connected
through time and space.
We heard and we watched
Bell & Lindbergh
Ford & Armstrong
Gates & Jobs
transform the very fabric of our realities,
uncovering expanding realms
of possibility.

We have healed and protected
our fragile bodies.
Decades ago,
Mr. Salk became part of evening
prayers.
We began having less babies,  
and we marveled for 112 days
at the beating of the first
artificial heart.
Wondering or not
whether new bionic inclinations
had affected our humanity.

We have evolved
collective creeds
through unexpected revolutionaries
and in spite of dragging feet.
While AFL & CIO
became household names,
Ms. Anthony and Dr. King
made us cry
and shake
and question
our very foundations.

And yet,
after 165 years of change,
I say, with a heavy heart,
and millions of people,
and billions of dollars,
and a dream,
that the 1850’s schoolhouse
has been only
feebly & perfunctorily
remodeled.

From their graves,
Mr. Mann & Mr. Dewey ask,
“What will it take?”

I only spit shine our hikes
in the woods and I marinate rain drops
in melted wax so we can peal

it off our skins when we get bored later.
I only exfoliate on lost time while
maneuvering around false hope

you seem to deliver from an eternity
void, stamped and all. I must jump its
sound and skip a couple staircases

to find its Jonas Salk.  I only go mad on
the colors I write about the clown who keeps
his nose on a rounded cliff and

his acts in prepositions. I invest
verbs with the future and liquidate  
past futile nouns in denial.  

I plunge the toilet of the oppressed
monk who never gets the good and
rough *** those mornings the birds sing.  

I sew fellowship when viscosity
is at maximum and the sewage
ruptures four feet from the prince

of mercantile who ends up
building a wall to protect himself
and others from the foggy morning.

None but he who calls me, me,
thinks of me
as doer of

the deeds we see were done, or
must have been done,
ere I was error there of, as

beauties, if such do yet make
plans for chances I can take
as hope, sent deep to meet me,

as has been done, hoped over
plans, in me, object I point
at you. See, we are they who do

say you see the banner wave,
o'er the legendary home, aye,
of free and brave, learn-

ed and led by the learned away,
to find the me who started
thinking things we say are prayer,

this, nada mas, this we have
as we think, we have, this we,
I, me and you. Please be real. Amen.

The out of body designation,
after life, after ever once begun,
rounds the bend in time to find you.

That is mine, you said to he-
he who calls me, me, he may be
too dense to pass through, solid state.

Activated Intelligence,
see the odds, gads, scads of
notta chances remain to test,

may good enough to try, get by,
as among the best, for umph,
at the last wish in any set of three

kinds of minds full of found
ways this could occur or happen
to seem felt right, enough for now.

- the binge, a novel passtime,
- focus, intent, on hero stories fit
- slicker than snot to viral ideas…

We sneeze, sometimes in threes,
all the breathers who think in me terms,
studies show we mostly sneeze in threes;
------------------------
we get vaccines in threes, and we live on
Between April 26 and July 10, 1954,
volunteers distributed Salk's series of three polio shots….

From <https://www.google.com/search?q=first+polio+vaccine+roll+out&oq=first+polio+vaccine+roll+out&aqs=chrome..69i57j33i22i29i30.9668j1j15&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8>

Sometime I see,
Drift of serene shadows.
Sometimes walls float,
Amidst empty gallows.

Hard to feel
The taste of veal,
Hard to sense,
What feelings miss,
On Lee.

Not what I see,
Not shared reality.
All could be
What’s not in me.

I walk a shallow,
Its fallow hums.
Howls rise empty,
Fell the blue tree.

Cherry without taste,
A dream’s faint state.
What lies in my realm
Lacks any helm.

A lonely road I walk,
To Salk an open goad.
I must see
My illusions, gee.

It’s lacking,
No meaning.
What fallacy must play,
On killing today.

The Human side of Nature

John Ashbery and Janas Salk both said
There’s nothing specific for us to do;
Our wisdom arrives by necessity.
Some growing is crucial, but this we do
Inherently, just by evolution;
We can simply submit to acceptance,
Learn how to anticipate the future,
Track the rhythms of growth and submit to
Inclinations that dance fandango for
Well-being and flamenco for the cells.

We can hear through bones, as well as the ears,
And the spellbinding, multi-layered tales
Told by old shamans cultivate benign
Instincts for our future’s broadmindedness.
When frequent blunders become more acute
It is time to start swinging from the heart.  
As new loves are born, there is no need to
Immunize against the negative swoon,
The old way of judging is out, it was
Never kind to flowers or buoyancy.

Having experienced the infection,
Shun old paths and the acceptance of fear,
We’ll easily recognise the pattern
Of lethargy when connections increase.
Keep open, keep scanning, grow a thin skin,
Have a bird's eye view and a worm's eye view,
Elbow out the dominance of cash flow,
We’ve no need to carry investors.
Merge with the creative neutral misfits
Who practice positive simplicity.

Discontent expresses the driving force,  
But constant interference is the norm;
Let the next evolution process be
Upon us, in us, with us and through us.
Make affection the newfound bravery,
Multiply magnanimous attention,  
Send reasoning to the intuition’s
Department, observe the new unfolding,
Assist what’s unsupported and learn how
To breeze with time at perception HQ.

Attend wholeheartedly to unlearning,
Start giving evolution a purpose.
We’re ripe for falling steadily into
Ourselves, making each new day a life-span.
Anticipate the future; it’s fine now
To stumble upon self-consciousness.
We had wisdom, without too much knowledge,
Then we developed fear, replaced benign
Casualness with scary risk forecasts and
Stopped the good old carefree buzz from humming.

If we have no wisdom to govern the
Knowledge, let the custard pies be our guide,
They will aid the inception of slapstick.
We have the right genes for this and they will
Activate fast when people are ready;
This affirms the collective certainty
That each of us has a different purpose.
Anything is only worth the candle
If you make frisky hearts the starting point,
And celebrations of beauty the norm.