Gotham Farewell

When doomsday dawned

the anxious video

informed us somnolent coffeepots

of our imminent composure

and alack

the gears, the wheels, the clocks

went to work as usual

ignoring the lampposts looting stores

while, tra la

upon the esplanade

a few unemployed trashcans

argued which would bow first

the Bridge or the Green Lady.

Jack & Jill

I

The moon will not beam without bringing a dream

Of my beautiful Jillulalee;

And the sun cannot set but with tears of regret

For my lovely Jillulalee.

For once up a mount Titanic

I roamed with my darling Jillee,

Till we came to an orbed ceramic

Me and the lovely Jillee.

That hill was somber and lonely

Haunted by ill angels only,

When in a voluminious spell,

She tumbled into the Stigantian well!

Its sad waters, sad and chilly

Used my Jillulali illy.

So the moon will not beam without bringing a dream

Of the beautiful Jillee,

Until the night-tide when I float at the side

Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my bride

In her sepulcher there on the hill,

In her tomb on the top of the hill!

II

Rub your head, dear Jack, and I will mine, 

and we will go forth,

Fetching nations and cities as we go!

Caressing men and mothers of men, not despising

redlipp’d barman, butcher, pimp, sagamore,

Up from the sudden preordain’d fall, now so

astonishing,

Though eons in the making,

Down through the valley seductively summoning,

Over the hay-fields into the sixth-month sunset

so lusciously beckoning,

We will set forth, adhesiveness thenceforth tumultuously

caroling,

Allons, Camarado, hop to it!

III

At the first twisting of the spiral

The cicada sang his dry chant.

Is there water in the clear well

Nourishing multifoliate rose?

If there had been no water there,

There had been no turning,

Nor returning turned to Fall and Flood.

Save me Lord, but not now!

Chick chick chick chack

Tereu

I Tiresias, though blind, saw it all foredoomed,

Enacted upon a broken Vesuvio,

Young Apollo’s cerebral crack,

Jill going down on her protuberant back,

Co co rico

Husband, I have immortal longings!

American Exceptionalism?

The all-too-frequently asserted insistence on American exceptionalism is questionable if it means that America is more virtuous, just, free, and open to opportunity than any other country ever has been. Such jingoism is possible only by cherry picking the past and ignoring our history of slavery, segregation, imperialistic wars, and the excesses of capitalism, which produced robber barons, a long parade of financial panics and disasters, unchecked corporate power, political corruption, and the outrages still perpetrated by Wall Street and Big Banks with impunity.. There is one aspect of America, however, that clearly deserves the highest commendation. 

The strength of American society is based not upon the competence of its wealthiest, but upon the ability and willing cooperation of its average citizens. A random selection of New Yorkers, say, including street people and the poor, could come together, elect leaders, and do what is necessary--rescue work, reconstruction, provisioning, whatever. That is the unrecognized genius of the American people. They do not need to follow the orders of an elite. Much more so than our military might or financial power or political wisdom, the practical ability of the ordinary citizen is something Americans can truly be proud of.

Mirror Man

The fellow in the mirror

seems absurdly self-conscious

spends half his time

shaving

adjusting his collar

checking the color of his teeth

He acts as if the rest of the world

has nothing to do 

but notice

his thinning hair

his second chin

the blemish on his cheek

This morning, tired, hungover

someone who’s seen better days 

he seemed particularly unhappy

and I had the feeling

that in his sullen stupid way

he was trying to tell me something.

Circle Five

Once while asleep I saw Raymond

(who sells textbooks)

in a pleasure palace

sketching

an Abyssinian maid

Round the crystal walls

were rows of astonishing paintings

(all of them signed Raymond)

When I woke to my Bay Ridge flat

and three botched canvases

I remembered nothing of the paintings

except

how much they’d made me hate Raymond! 

Fair Taxes and Elections?

Just about everyone realizes that our tax system is unjust and corrupt. Unfortunately, little will be done about it because politicians of both parties rely upon huge contributions--some would call them bribes--from lobbyists representing Wall Street, large corporations, and other interests. It doesn’t seem likely, even with a progressive in the White House, that any the of the more outrageous loopholes might be eliminated or narrowed. Short of a national disaster, nothing substantial, it seems, can be done to make our tax structure rational or fair.

As the election of 2012 clearly demonstrated, our system of choosing political representatives has similarly become disgraceful and absurd.  Campaigns are much too long, involve increasingly astronomical amounts of money, and freely indulge in demagogy, pandering, outright distortions, and boldfaced lies. To run for high office  in the twenty-first century it seems all a candidate needs is extraordinary amounts of money with which to tell lies and attack opponents in televised ads. Although the chances of improving this situation are more remote than fixing the tax code, it may be worth while to consider alternatives. 

It would be wholesome for democracy if all campaigns were limited to two months before the election, plenty of time for candidates to spell out their principles and specific positions. Campaigns would be financed by the government with modest funds distributed equally among the candidates. An equal amount of free television time would be available to each bonafide candidate. No additional money would be available--no contributions, not even the candidates own funds. For each contest, there would be one televised debate. This would be a modified Oxford-style debate in which the moderator does little but keep time. In the presidential debate, for example, there would be two teams, composed of each party’s candidates for president and vice president. This form of debate allows candidates to introduce topics and positions and their opponents to challenge them in rebuttal. And in presidential elections the popular vote would be all that counts. 

Conversation Overheard in an Anthology

He:

Gainst Time’s obscenities

you will be wrinkled, wrung, wracked

my tight-lipped lovely

so why hold out so highly

gainst minor mine?

She:

My mealy-mouthed

word-mongering fossil

stuff your antique threats

in a book and with winsome wit 

bemoan your unlucky plumber

He:

In such a book

your clap-trap undulations

will upstart cocky scholars

draw oil from well-primed rocks

when you unrot are dust hapless

She:

Ah, my punsome corpse pimp

why wrap obscurities in rhyme ribbon?

Forgo these sonnet coffins 

and tame that obstreperous plumber

to the tune of unlyric labials mine!

Tomb in Ravenna

Slit-brick exterior 

by centuries degraded

Sanctuary black to sun-stunned eyes

till marmalade light  

begins to unveil in uncertain rays

Byzantine splendor and gold

Mosaic mystery, delicate sermon in stone

from darkness displays 

a decorum suggesting the hidden dead

solemn, simple, cold.

Babyccino

Recently on line I clicked the photo of a cute little girl with what looked like suds all over her face. She was having a marvelous time, it seemed, scooping stuff covered with colorful sprinkles from a wide cup with a large spoon. Aha! I said to myself babyccino must be cappuccino for a little kid. The fad, according to the text, originated in Park Slope, Brooklyn--not far from where I grew up. Though I’m a bit of a curmudgeon, supposedly immune to kitchy fluff, I found the clip endearing.

It was the appended comments I found over the top. Unhealthy! one irate commentator chided, tantamount to child abuse! Others were outraged at the kind of stuck-up gentrifyers who’d spoil their brats with such an outrageous concoction. Derogatory comments went on for pages. Really, I thought, what has become of us? To me, the babyccino was a contemporary equivalent of a Mickey Mouse, the ginger ale with a cherry served to little kids in restaurants when mom and dad were having a cocktail. Completely harmless.

Of course the world has changed since I was a kid. Everything we thought was healthy, like bread, milk, eggs, butter, and potatoes, is now to be avoided and the things we despised, like broccoli and asparagus, are promoted enthusiastically by nutritionists. And recently we’ve been told that the substitutes for the proscribed staples are as bad or worse for our health than the natural products themselves! Wisdom suggests that we ignore much of this sage advice and eat or drink modest portions of whatever we like.

What struck me about many of these online comments about babyccino were their extremity and tone. Perhaps, like the sharp political divisions in congress and among the American people, there is no longer a center, a moderate view of anything, just extreme views. We no longer tolerate a different take on a question. We’ve been taught that those who disagree with us are evil, whether it’s a matter of national health insurance or a hot drink for a kid. Me, I’m all for a babyccino for this little girl, but being a purist I’d recommend they hold the sprinkles.

Unreal City

In a formidable poem

with snippits in six languages

and footnotes in antique Greek

the banker Tom

called snooty imperial London 

an Unreal City

despite its veddy real

monument to Wren, Piccadilly

Soho, Fleet Street

and the proud pigeons 

strutting about Trafalgar Square

Miami Beach, however, is obviously

the epitome of urban unreality

a stupendous movie set 

clapped together in twenty minutes

at the cost of a zillion dollars,

Miami Beach has neither

manners, history, nor public toilets

all of which indicate

the extent of its unreality

Still, the airy nothing 

of Miami Beach is more fit for idle celebration

than any mausoleum or nymph

on the banks of the Thames

Miami Beach, furthermore

has the grace not to take itself seriously

is content to be

a Coney Island in crystal

with hotels shaped like

rocket ships, starfish

and hot fudge sundaes

And anyone

in baggy jeans or fitted suit 

with plastic or sufficient cash

is welcome 

to enjoy thoroughly

sans connections, honorifics, or plummy accent

all of this imaginary

tongue-in-cheek splendor.