speechless

Everything is too close to the surface today. It’s too raw or it’s too numb or it doesn’t make sense. A year ago today, my Peter sent me an envelope full of pictures dating back to when we first met, back in the fall of 1993. The note that was enclosed said just that he was glad to have me in his life. That’s the only thing that I really understand today - there are people who weave in and out of my life who mean so much to me, and if nothing else everyone needs to take a moment today and really appreciate that. Don’t take anything for granted. It can’t work that way anymore.

Nate sent me this today. I sometimes am a fan of Ani’s music. I only occasionally am a fan of her politics. However, at a time when words are failing me, there was a lot of this that felt real, and so I’m sharing it with you.

self evident
Ani Difranco

yes, us people are just poems
we’re 90% metaphor with a leanness of meaning approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time we were moonshine rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs with the whiskey of eternity fermented and
distilled to eighteen minutes burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs in a building so tall that it will always be there
yes, it’s part of a pair there on the bow of noah’s ark
the most prestigious couple just kickin back parked against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america fell to its knees after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar looked more like war
than anything i’ve seen so far so far so far
so fierce and ingenious a poetic specter
so far gone that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb
and stumbling over ‘oh my god’ and ‘this is unbelievable’ and on and on
and i’ll tell you what, while we’re at it you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv that’s been trying to convince me to participate
in some prep school punk’s plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution is still hanging in the air
and there’s ash on our shoes
and there’s ash in our hair
and there’s a fine silt on every mantle from hell’s kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters with tales
of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin like never before
as all over the country folks just shake their heads
and pour

so here’s a toast to all the folks who live in palestine afghanistan iraq

el salvador

here’s a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore

here’s a toast to all those nurses and doctors who daily
provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman’s voice

here’s a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner’s guillotine
who are shackled there with dread
and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean it don’t take a weatherman to look around and see the weather
jeb said he’d deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i’ve got no room for a lie so verbose
i’m looking out over my whole human family
and i’m raising my glass in a toast

here’s to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us from brick walls
and bridges we were rolling over ridges
through valleys under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches in a grand station
aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it’s time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else’s desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang in two thousand and one
at ten after nine on nine one one
which is the number we all called when that lone phone rang
right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs in a building so tall
that the whole world turned just to watch it fall

and while we’re at it remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn’t even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups
would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?

it was a joke, of course it was a joke at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody’s face
and scoping that scene religiously
the CIA or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn’t have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here on the 104th floor
look another key another door
10% literal 90% metaphor
3000 some poems disguised as people on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns in some asshole’s passion play
so now it’s your job and it’s my job to make it that way
to make sure they didn’t die in vain
sshhhhhh…. baby listen hear the train?