Me and the 58,000 and Other Poems
Vietnam Soldier's Memorial
Me and the 58,000
The date, the date
was ‘68
The party’s started
and I was late
The world divided
by the length of our hair
in ‘68
I was so square
A generation yelled
kill them all
While their children
protested on
the National Mall
Some decided
this is not our war
When the party started
They bolted toward the door
Crossed the border
Americans no more
Thousands protested
carrying signs,
‘Make Love, Not War’
While the war machine
Said, ‘give us your poor’
Reading, Reader’s Digest
watching long hairs protest
How’d we get in
this stink’n mess
Drinking chocolate milk shakes
no idea what is at stake
The party started
and I was late
the date, the date was ‘68
Now with buddies
in the jungle
The news showed it’s not
a West Side Story rumble
Learning how not to stare
All the girls with legs so bare
The boys at home were big flirts
Chasing girls in short skirts
The party started
and I was late
the date, the date was ‘68
The government sent out invitations,
Said, I’d wear green and eat k-rations
Drinking chocolate milk shakes
no idea what is at stake
The party started
and I was late
the date, the date was ‘68
Many boys were crying
And many men were dying
The world divided
by the length of our hair
The party’d started
and I was late
A Homeless Mind
A cat walks across three stories Leaving tracks up one arm and down another like a vein looking for a heart like a steel lock looking for a warm cock crowing on another empty morning Sleeping on the sidewalk at two o’clock chased from the park long before dark a homeless mind no place to go nothing to show a fleeting life like tracks on the snow
Empty Plates
There comes a day of empty plates
Chairs won't scrape the floor
Pans won't stack, three pots high
No voice will ask for more
...
Potatoes wither on the ground
And the gravy boats will gather dust
There are no biscuits set to rise
And no one cares to make a fuss
...
No need to polish goblets
Or hold them to the light
Or fill them with sweet nectar
For everyone’s delight
...
The clock ticks in the kitchen
For those with uncleaned slates
Call it luck or fate or destiny
There comes a day of empty plates
