and eyes refuse sight.
can be posed,
nor answers given. Light is
erased. Dust and blood.
The news we see now is overwhelmed with US–our own politics are so chaotic and overwhelming that what is going on in the rest of the world seems almost to have disappeared. This Headline Haiku was done by me months ago, from what seems to have been a different lifetime of everyday concerns and headlines.
But people are still dying in, and fleeing from, Syria. And the world still seems paralyzed in response.
My two previously posted Headline Haikus about Syria are currently appearing in the exhibit “We the People: Political Art in an Age of Discord” at the Barrett Art Center, in Poughkeepsie, NY. All the work in the show is posted online here; Trump is definitely there, but not always front and center.
Out of sight
eyes and ears closing
out of mind
desperate lost abandoned
Is this will divine?
Politics is local, but we are connected in humanity and survival with all the peoples of the world. We should not forget that.
All is black,
disguising the hole
in the sun.
The light won’t
swallow the scream inside you.
Songs still. Won’t you come
penetrate, cleanse, wash
Prayer eclipsed by Hell, the
wind stealing you gone. The rain.
The storm. Whole. Black.
Another voice lost far too early, this time to suicide.
Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States, claiming the lives of over 40,000 Americans every year, 50% of these with guns.
If You Know Someone in Crisis Call the toll-free National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (NSPL) at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The service is available to everyone. The deaf and hard of hearing can contact the Lifeline via TTY at 1-800-799-4889. All calls are confidential.
poem for dVerse Quadrille #34 storm
To run and
be bound, to keep the
yes it goes
on, held and released, goes on
and is the path not
paved with our feet? All gonna
meet at the end. Let
your voice travel between em,
those lines that surround and catch
the singing, all the
hymns of light, blues of Midnight–
trailing that Rider.
What a beautiful boy he was. But his face grew into his music. I was lucky enough to see the Allman Brothers a few years back in one of their NYC residences.
Shovel poem using two lines from Gregg Allman’s song “Midnight Rider” (read the last words of each line straight down).
the future is exploded
time again undone
Brown eyed handsome man:
the things you used to do. That
Rock and Roll music.
Netflix is doing a great documentary series called “Abstract”. Last night we watched the one about Christophe Neimann, an illustrator who currently lives in Berlin. I was beyond inspired. Mr. Neimann’s work can be seen on numerous New Yorker covers and can be followed on Instagram @abstractsundays.
Say “I” loud, often.
Tweet your heart out. Becoming
“alternate”. Facts? Sad.
“…the Trump administration is the first to explicitly claim the ability and right to replace facts with something more convenient that has no basis in reality.”
–Erik Sherman, Forbes
“This is what Democracy looks like.”
A Hard Rain
has fallen shadowed
by endless endings, ghosts both
multiplied and lost
Yesterday Michael Kimmelman, in a feature article in the NY Times, noted: “Truth be told, no sane person wants to see these images….What’s happening in Aleppo is almost unbearable to look at….
Bana looks us straight in the eye and asks us to save her, please.
We have done nothing to help.
The very least we should do is look back.”
I’ve been working slowly on this embroidery, a companion to the first Syria headline haiku I did, because these images are hard to look at, hard to draw. The first piece, above and below, was done over a year ago, September 2015.
We can turn our eyes away, but that will not make Aleppo disappear.