Occupy

A Poem by Christopher Moylan

(Photo: Paul McLean)

Next has a hole in it

You can’t see across…

The horizon slips further away,

But it was always that way…

Clouds tear from clouds,

Light falls to pieces, sky

loses its parts of speech…

Deadwood advances on

springtime, a warm breeze

getting warmer all the time…

The sun is in eclipse,

looking with the naked eye,

Everyone else goes blind.

The river is cold and swift.

kneeling to take a sip,

Everyone else gets tipsy…

Turn out your pockets,

compassion needs a loan…

The old words are worn thin,

The new ones require faith

one doesn’t have: swaps and

Derivatives, securities for

Houses under water…

Take care the quiet neighbor,

beware the friendly banker

and job creator…Beware

the savior monetized like

an inspirational movie…

The planes are taking off

Again, the silos are dilating

From the Rockies to Iran…

Watches synchronized; on

their wrists, it’s always midnight…

Time to reassess; the air

We breathe is free, what

to do with it? The spot we

stand on was staked with

light once. It can be again.

We can be better. We can be

New. From now until the end

Next is always at hand.

We can fill it with what

Could be. So much want

To unwrap and pass around

One strong hand to another.

If the higher ground is cluttered,

Overgrown with neglect,

Or lit up like a carnival,

Then come down,

The open ordinary is just fine.

Pick a spot, and occupy.