Which you will you be today?

Politics and culture never cease to fascinate me, but I often find myself frustrated by trying to explain what seems so obvious, yet bizarrely invisible to so many professional writers. For decades, I have been fascinated by an unfolding history that few seem either able—or even inclined—to understand.

My disdain for whatever passes for journalism in the U.S. tends to keep my fire lit for writing prose reflecting on current events. When my patience fades and nihilism threatens to rise in its place, however, I find myself drawn to other modes of expression.

A road trip up the California coast a few years ago led me to the Redwood National and State Parks. The trip, and a hike along the beach, offered a series of images and prompted a short poem that I was grateful to stumble across this week. I hope it offers you something useful.

Which? (3/19/17)

Are we all
bugs
trapped
in a urinal?

wet wings
frozen to ceramic
our legs
frantically

flailing
our very
existence
depending

on righting
ourselves 
and yet
we cannot?

Or are we
tiny
plants
growing

out of even
smaller
spaces
rotting

out of
driftwood
washed up
on the beach?

Or are we 
giant
trees
anchored

in precarious
hillsides
resisting
by existing

our roots
holding
together
the Earth?

Paid subscribers can access another poem written two years before this one. It’s a pantoum reflecting not only a different form and style from the one above, but also a decidedly different view of human existence—and the choices before each of us as we pass through this life...