If they gunned me down

Photo from Internet images. 

If they gunned me down,

ripping through my head,

would they leave me there

for dead, afraid my years would

would snatch them up?

Is walking in these old white bones

crime enough?

Everybody knows how they are.

I'm not prejudiced, but...

old white women, capped

and dyed and tucked!

You can't disguise deceit.

They're Dangerous, not Us.

Would they let me bleed,

if they gunned me down

because I'm white and old?

Would I lie there dead and cold,

and would they ever see

a human heart shot through?

If they gunned me down

If they gunned me down,

you?

I saw this quote on Unvirtuous Abbey: "For those who say, 'I'm not prejudiced but...,' Let us pray!"

Circa '62

Circa '62

Through a trapdoor

down steep stairs

on the dirt floor,

beside some dusty shelves, 

it stands: a rusted can 

as tall as we are tall.

Even with the cover tight,

the odor fills the room,

and in the dim light,

we swoon in yeasty haze.

We fill our cups

and dare to tip them up,

secret in our ways,

these heady home brew days.

Peace Song

Peace Song

Someday, we sing of peace

as shadows sing,

as wind.

The cherry blossoms still;

yellow birds sit branches.

Heaven holds its breath.

Someday, we sing again

of peace,

as shadows sing. 

As wind.

This poem is written on the 69th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima. God help us.