Watching the news about Hurricane Ike and watching the water rise on the front door step, looking through some things I wrote immediately before and after Hurricane Katrina, I came across this piece that makes me think of the both Democratic and Republican national conventions.
No Shaman Left to Heal Our Tribe
for Jim Morrison
Come, dig the grave, but not too deep;
the eighties were a shallow time.
We spent a decade just to learn
how to maintain appearance's sake
and delve with questions, off-the-cuff,
in cocktail conversation bluffs.
Come, dig the grave, the shovel's mouth
will gouge the earth enough to serve
as depth-gauge for the swollen corpse;
besides, the scavengers we bred
in boredom need not work too hard
to find in us their daily bread.
Come, dig the grave; it's only death
that by necessity is born
and like a cancer spreads throughout
the tender tissue we have formed
to shield us from the sunlight's glare
and make believe there's nothing there.
Come, work the soil and lay the sod;
the garden must be fed anew
lest what fruit has escaped the rod
be left to rot by morning's dew.
What harvest plenty still remains
is just enough to clog the drains.
Come, dig the grave, but not too deep,
lest toil and sweat destroy our youth.
Let future generations weep
that they've no gravestone for the truth.
Besides, it's almost happy hour ---
we should arrive by our own power.
03 OCT 2005
