I started writing a poem about dreaming
During a pandemic and immediately I felt
Like such an asshole because people are screaming
These days on the inside and out at the hands dealt
To them. I can breathe. There’s heat on. My cup
Has coffee in it. What other jackpots lie
Ignored around this palace? Something’s up
With our jacked American brains– that thousands die
Today, and folks are yelling about any-
Thing besides getting people safe and healed.
Our numb souls shout, ” Screw the many!
Let my alienable M.O. be revealed!”
Kyrie eleison–this hating fight time.
Christe eleison–this awaiting light time.
