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I Hope it’s not Too Late

For the trees,

for the kids,

for the liver,

for the bees,

the entrenched powers,

for the river…   

they remind us

what it’s like

to throw a ball

in the air - 

as inequality


like a figure skater

on the evening news.

For the possible politician

to give us 

one more

watery gem

before a prostrate

congress, as global catastrophe

looms.  As capitalism


like oil in a petri dish,

it has no memory, no fight,

unable to explain,

why it can’t explain - 

a system

with no self-reflection

is cold and lonely.  If it’s too late

for establishment politics - then it’s time

for poetry,

for rock ‘n roll,

for a bluesmanship, humiliated and hangry

for light.  Let’s make it too late

for conspiracy theories.  Too solid

for division

from up top.  Too soon

for racism, misogyny, censorship.  Time

for progressive policy!  Too late, too late, now,

for demagoguery.  As the gates of summer

have opened - 

and the neighborhood 

is alive

with balls in the air!

a teeming warmth

of work and play,

bodies bopped 

in the slow dusk, bright

with the cost of living.

Posted 05/01/21
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