What Does It Mean

 

What does it mean to live in this time-this place-now
this America so wrapped and so unwrapped with lines
of poor, of lost, of last chance and hope…all waiting
for something unscheduled undreamed unbelievable
and always always always left standing wide mouthed
staring and surprised at the opportunity willfully laid
out at their feet…demanding they lift it and carry all the
way to the end of their own future, the future entwined
enshrined defined and wholly 100% free

What does it mean to the ones here for centuries for
decades for months for fathers and mothers for
complicated destinies themselves twisted into the fabric
of who we all are yet upset that what they (old) have is
what they (new) want without the courtesy to thank them…
the ones who knocked down trees made roads created
the stuff that was used to create the stuff…not saying that
they got here first and now hate having to defend
something they’re afraid to admit

What does it mean to be unaffected by that-by this-by
the hate anger sadness gladness and envy that so
permeates so envelopes so stains the words that fly when
even birds are smart enough to roost…what does it mean
when the middle ground isn’t the safest and only polar
opposites make sense because hate is the only resource
in abundance and it collects on the ends, the edges, on
24 hour a day talk radio, on the minds of those who
cannot stand up without a wall behind them.

Time is a frame of film sliding past a lens in front of
the thin light of everything you know and who you are
in those moving pictures is only an illusion…what any
of this means (I have no answers to give) is what we
make it to mean and today is not so different than
yesterday tomorrow and now…but by degrees by
tiny slices of time we all create a reality we’re happy sad
joyful mad contented and anxious to live in, to swing in a
wide arc from then—through now—and into wherever

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