Where was Einstein?

When Daniel Ellsberg
went looking for his bus,
he saw the war,
felt the sun turn cold 

and ugly 

with political lies
falling from a deceitful sky
like incendiary bombs over North Vietnam,
spilling onto the streets in front of the White House.

near central Saigon on Tu Do street,
a flow of blood dripped constantly from the sharp teeth
of slippery men wearing their helicopter smiles,
trafficking dope 

from a railroad town in Laos
down the trail 

under a heart of darkness:
their American machine guns shooting up
the hard thin arms of Oriental hunger.

On a plutonium pathway the buffalo grass turned shit brown
with the CIA and Agent Orange
locked in a fatal embrace 

from the Plain of Jars
to the Central Highlands,

to the DMZ,
picking pure white daisy petals
while counting down from twelve 

to four and finally closer to zero:
under a cloudy mushroom afternoon,
Nixon was inaugurated to deliver
PEACE 

while fighting for his golden Crown
in the slaughter hallways of Pennsylvania Avenue.

Where was Einstein?
when Daniel Ellsberg
said there were no winnable options
for a WAR 

in jungle thick with sudden death
and monsoon confusion?

A thousand western schemes floated beguilingly,
mingled with autumn flower petals 

on the Perfume River,
past the starving bones of an angry Imperial ghost,
to their lonely grave 

in the South China Sea.

no hurry

hello,

dear friend!

we can always depend

on an early sun rise!

it's no longer a surprise

for we have starlight in our eyes,

thinking about the roads underneath our feet

and the sound of a nearby heartbeat

coming from a satisfied lover

sweetly smiling underneath cover

always alongside

for the final ride.

so,

we're walking through a field of spring flowers,

laughing at the slowly passing hours,

looking at big wheels spinning without going anywhere,

and we rest without carrying any extra care.

yes, i swear

what's always there

is music on the breeze

when we see the magic of the trees

and see cows jumping over the moon

in the middle of a summer afternoon:

no hurry, no, no hurry

to end anything too soon.

hello,

dear friend!

we can always depend

on an early sun rise!

it's no longer a surprise

for we have starlight in our eyes,

thinking about the roads underneath our feet

and the sound of a nearby heartbeat

coming from a satisfied lover

sweetly smiling underneath cover

always alongside

for the final ride.

yes, i swear

what's there

is music on the breeze

when we see the magic of the trees

and see cows jumping over the moon

in the middle of a summer afternoon:

no hurry, no, no hurry 

to end anything too soon.

my warmest regard

i found a cougar in my backyard

reading from a black and white yellowed note card

he was thumbing the whole page looking for a clue

lots of angry cats are still wondering what to do

if there's a passing storm and the thunder keeps coming down hard

running around in my backyard

i'm giving all wild animals my warmest regard

but when their fantasies bite and spit 

and the music finally decides to quit

well, just keep the dancing shoes tapping across the bandstand floor

Ginger and Fred have memories that are too hard to ignore

sliding and spinning 

losing and winning

grinning

calling home where i answer my phone

pretending to be singing baritone:

special friends and the most beautiful Harvest Queen 

riding in a Cinderella wagon making a happy ending scene

making the best of our time

adding more polish to the shine

lending all the bums a dime.

i found a cougar in my backyard

reading from a black and white yellowed note card

he was thumbing the whole page looking for a clue

lots of angry cats are still wondering what to do

if there's a passing storm and the thunder keeps coming down hard

running around in my backyard

i'm giving all the animals my warmest regard

but when fantasies bite and spit 

and the music finally decides to quit

just keep the dancing shoes tapping across the bandstand floor

Ginger and Fred offer memories that are too hard to ignore

sliding and spinning 

losing and winning

grinning

calling home where i answer my phone

pretending to be singing baritone:

special friends and the most beautiful Harvest Queen 

all riding in a Cinderella wagon making a happy ending scene

making the best of our time

adding more polish to the shine

lending all the bums a dime.

sweet melodies

we're all alone, 

sometimes talking on the phone

with everybody else

marching on the parade ground, 

listening to the sound

of time passing away.

there's always more to say!

for when i saw you singing to the trees,

hair blowing in the breeze,

perfectly at ease,

welcoming me to the picnic table 

like in a legendary fable

happening in real life,

i felt harmony everywhere

and sweet melodies

drifting thru the air,

whispering my name:

this is not a game.

Christopher Reeve as Superman

the total eclipse,

as i walked the sidewalks near Central Park with a friend

discussing the virtues of obsession,

was a Tea Party surprise.

it rushed towards us like an angry earthquake

formed in six dimensions,

like a blizzard of Lou Reed New York craziness,

blasting our faces,

our small faces,

like a bold print headline in jazzy neon colors

broadcast live from a giant billboard

mounted on one wall of a 5th Avenue skyscraper.

masked and unmasked goblins were scurrying on and off

the adjacent streets, dodging taxis and ignoring traffic lights,

parading smartly by radiation detectors and the steely eye of 

security cameras.

they went searching for fading high school memories of

acne and heartache,

of fall football games and loose sweaters filled with varsity hands.

and the total eclipse faded as quickly as it appeared,

which was disappointing.

one small girl passed us dressed as a witch,

seemingly channeling Alice in Wonderland,

while holding aloft a green caterpillar smoking from a hookah.

she went snickering as though she was in La La Land, although

she was barely at 42nd street.

i stopped my friend when he began to dabble with finger paints,

pushing passing goblins as he did so,

smearing his private paints onto their private parts.

it was all for fun, he said, when i asked

"What the hell are you doing that for?"

and to get him away from the crowds, i suggested a movie,

maybe with hot buttered pop corn and a cold coke.

we had to have coke!

especially to see Christopher Reeve as Superman, i thought.

since Chris was a friend of mine from the early days of the Actor's Studio,

i enthusiastically said "Let's see Superman!"

but my friend said Superman was dead, and in a way he was right.

Chris had a terrible fall off a jumping horse and became paralyzed;

he often publicly stated that he'd walk unaided again some day,

maybe to join in finger painting on city streets or to act on television

or in another movie where he'd wear a red cape and fly faster than a 

speeding bullet, without special effects.

well, sadly that won't happen, and i never got to see the movie that day, either,

because my friend pulled me into a book store where a small 

gathering was taking place for the hearing impaired.

and everybody was dabbling with finger paints.

without keeping score

but i can't remember your name

or if we once lived together

or if you'd visit me

regardless of the afternoon weather

carry my heavy school book

give me a second look

i can't remember what you took

but it seems

you often appear in my dreams

and i got a crush on you

baby, i'm not sure what it is you do

but the daylight is brighter than it ever was before

and i'm winning every game without keeping score

you comb my unruly hair 

when i don't even know you're there

and it sure looks great

like i'm the master of the universe

it must be fate

'cause it could be so much worse

but i can't remember your name

or if we once lived together

or if you'd visit me

regardless of the afternoon weather

carry my heavy school book

give me a second look

i can't remember what you took

but it seems

you often appear in my dreams

and i got a crush on you

baby, i'm not sure what it is you do

but the daylight is brighter than it ever was before

and i'm winning every game without keeping score.

we'd dance forever

we can sit and jump,

watching the moon shadow move

perfectly at peace.

all movement is rest,

a poet keeps reminding,

little by little.

outside the windows,

what do we notice is there

when we look away,

when we see ourselves

walking on a quiet road

as the hard winds blow?

and steady we go,

like a tree with fine branches

that stretch out for life.

what i love the most,

when we catch each other's eye,

is our connection.

our breathing steady,

we can laugh without laughter

and cry without tears.

sipping our coffee,

we share tales of adventure

while doing nothing.

some cream and sugar?

we hear the questions arise

while we stay grounded.

i tell you so much

but my silence also speaks

with a deeper voice.

and your voice is song,

rising above the shouting

as it saves itself.

and who you now are

is what i hear you tell me

what you want to be.

if our walls could sing,

and we held hands together,

we'd dance forever.

what was lost

and all this up and down

makes it hard to get rid of this frown

it sometimes appears to be rich

and i feel a certain calm

but life can be a raging bitch

i can hold it in my palm

it looks at me and winks and gives a little laugh

am i here for myself? or on someone else's behalf?

well, i take a deep breath and stick out my thumb

hoping to feel the breeze

but i'm simply too numb

sitting on my shadow down on my knees

there's a man or a woman flashing smiles on the tv

asking their audience whatever they might want to be

and it's available for free:

no need to search into deeper space

no need to go forward or to retrace

there are lines to follow and they'll point the way

asking for your memories before they take them away

and in the end instead of asking each other

there's only a momentary shudder

and a flicker when the big screen goes blank

and there's no one to blame and no one to thank

you'll never wonder

what you drank

or what was lost 

or what was the ultimate cost

and all this up and down

makes it hard to get rid of this frown

it sometimes appears to be rich

and i feel a certain calm

but life can be a raging bitch

i can hold it in my palm

it looks at me and winks and gives a little laugh

am i here for myself? or on someone else's behalf?

well, i take a deep breath and stick out my thumb

hoping to feel the breeze

but i'm simply too numb.