Relief and Finally Thanks


I thank not aloud
the squirrels up the bark
and down the stairwells
without which I could not have
cinched the saddle and
ridden between summer
and winter pastures.

I foot-by-foot
place my feet on the rungs
up the aerial up the tower
where the radio signals
bounce and focus then
compose and conceive
the way the puppets dance.

I fight the assumption
that people of the margins
are somehow violent
toward the vanilla mainstream
or that the majority has
a lein on the dream
with a right to sell it.

I enjoy the ascent
my children climb the canyon
trail made of repetition
we’ve been up and down here
in the wood and inclination
of the joy of tribulation
moon rising over the pitfalls.

I trip into a ditch
the economy of brambles
the deja vu of innovation
generating more of the same
nothing new but the names
I want to clamber out but
that is the road we’re on.

I meaning we
pick ourselves up
from the bottom of the well
into which we were tossed
by our capitalist in-laws
by the step-custodians
charged with our welfare.

I thank out loud
spring after the winter
the firm ground of candor
the spiders up the bricks
and down the grimy alleys
turning into avenues strolled
under cherry and jazz trees.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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