New Poem: TIME FOR A ROUND OF GOLF

Well, what do you expect me to do
When I’m kept in the White House
Most of the time except to go on
Field trips to factories where I
Don’t wear a mask unless I
Absolutely have to make a CEO happy
>
Golf relieves stress and enables me to
Pretend there’s no virus and I can
Shake hands with other players
Always aware of telephoto lenses
Watching me hit the greatest drive ever
>
Yes, I used to criticize Obama for playing golf
But that was just politics with a side of
Dog-whistle racism to make me look
Better by comparison—to make people
Think I’d actually be a strong, decisive
President with little time for recreational
Activities once elected to the office
I actually believed Hillary would win
>
What else do you want of me
I said Deborah could do the Sunday shows
In effect saying the dog ate the homework
But we’ll turn it in on time before the
Second Wave when I’ll refuse to lockdown
And punt it back to the states once again
>
The flags were at half-staff all weekend
As the failing New York Times remembered
Some of the dead as I stay at my Country Club
Behind the fence where I don’t have to
Answer for six-figure deaths which are
Just a big regrettable number as I plan
A re-election I probably won’t win
But I’ll make sure when I do my
Outdoor rallies of the dwindling faithful
To divide and inflict  pain on you
That I’ll never ever feel myself

New Poem: PAGE TURNING ON THE RED HIGHWAY

every state is opening
most counties are wriggling free
businesses want to operate mostly unfettered
beaches look like they usually do
>
Trump turns the page faster than Obama did with George W.
stomp that accelerator and turn your head from dead/dying
make sure the flags at half-staff happen on Memorial Day weekend
when the president doesn’t have to answer for mistakes made,
powers unused, reluctance to lead by example,
and, of course, no face coverage except in private
only grudgingly because president can only defer so much
>
in an alternative timeline,
government develops plans for action
saves lives in nursing homes and non-Caucasian communities
takes the necessary time to develop effective vaccines
>
alternate president paraphrases JFK
says we do not do this because it is  easy,
we fight this disease because it is right

New Poem: MAGICAL IMPULSIVENESS

literal minded people
see the president saying no to masks
leader of the free world displays revulsion
like spayed/neutered cats and dogs
wearing Elizabethan collars
>
masks tossed to pavement
laid on top of trash and recycle bins
people squeeze through discount stores
acting as if they’re in THE MUSIC MAN
thinking they’re using Professor Hill’s think system
>
if we don’t wear masks
and we stand six inches instead of six feet apart
and if everyone else we see does this,
we’ll play our instruments perfectly
and no disease will ever bother us
in our blissful oblivious state
of magical impulsive recklessness

Sheltering in place with these poetry books

Here’s what I’ve been reading from since lockdown’s beginning:
Simon Armitage: THE UNACCOMPANIED
Sholeh Wolpe: ROOFTOPS OF TEHRAN
Nick Flynn: I WILL DESTROY YOU
Joy Harjo: AN AMERICAN SUNRISE
Philip Levine: THE LAST SHIFT
Julia Vinograd: SKULL & CROSSWORDS
Charles Simic: COME CLOSER AND LISTEN
Elizabeth Iannaci: THE VIRGIN TURTLE LIGHT SHOW: SPRING 1968
August Kleinzahler: HOLLYHOCKS IN THE FOG: SELECTED SAN FRANCISCO POEMS
Matthew Zapruder: FATHER’S DAY
David Lloyd: THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO FRANK
Bob Foster: I WANT TO GO IN MOTION
Garrett Murphy: WHAT WE CLAIM...WHAT WE ARE
Michael Shepler: ANGEL’S FLIGHT

New Poem: LAVA LEVEL MAD

yes, that’s what the article said
the president who can’t wear masks
doesn’t care about social distancing
wants to gather WW2 vets for a photo-op
yes, that president
he gets ‘lava level mad’
because his Navy valet
had the nerve to get sick
while doing the work
of being a butler
within range of the Commander in Chief
>
how can this happen
when the president thought
he turned up the volume on the economy
and snuffed out pesky CDC restrictions
like James Cagney killing a gangster
locked in a car trunk in WHITE HEAT
>
how can this happen
in the midst of allowing the plague
to become a wild horse escaping a corral
galloping to the nearest town‘s meat packing plant
as the president gets ready to wave his hands
saying look over here instead
watch me me me
distracting you you you
Michael Flynn no longer crucified
here’s something else about Hunter Biden
Sleepy Joe still in his basement
the usual nasty negative politics
trying to make them stick in unusual times
>
how can this happen
the president rages to his staff
as the enemy plague
secures a beachhead
in the last place he expected

New Poem: MADE FOR THIS

I was shaped too well for the lockdown life
Kept away from bad influences
Held back from after school jobs
Ordered to be studious
Hit with a plastic ruler at 10
Slapped over and over at 17
Because my valedictorian speech was short
Meaning I didn’t try hard enough
So I gave in and made it longer
>
Learned not to argue
Viewed the world as adversarial
Saw things my parents’ way
There were good days wrapped in cotton
At least until faltering in college
Then anger because I couldn’t balance
Work with a new appetite for play
Sometime in the spring of 1979
They gave up on me
>
Shy child as teenager
Emotionally 14
At the age of 21
More talkative as an adult
Who loved to read books and newspapers
Didn’t know how to read other people
When you can’t and won’t listen
You’re usually on your own
>
Opinionated in middle age
Too much so, certain people said
Someone who never knew me
Once let me know I was
In his mind a witless friendless
Talentless [word for feces]
>
Older now
Was increasingly stay-home
Even before the plague
Have a wife and cats
(So I did something right)
Plague makes me scared of lots of things
Especially not passing the virus to them
>
Hoping for gradual return to daily life
Set free whatever better self that remains inside