ancient texts speak:
Enlightenment is obviously
a thing of the past.
I speak from the bowels
of oldest marriages –
with the night,
quiet times with
the eternal fight.
The restraining blade of the rich
is daunting, is a done deal
because who’s taking it away?
The perfectly honed scimitar
vibrating with its sharpness
restricts all movements against it.
It is just there. It is such an
arms-folded presence how can
Against any strong blade
held against your throat?
It is only in numbers in swelling numbers
that we can revolt and push back
with some sacrifice, lots of sacrifice.
Fuck the rich. They are the assholes of power.
An asshole is an asshole and not a sword.
Their tight grip on our destiny is dissolving.
The crack of dawn cradles a new era
and opens into a new day. Nature, nature, nature
is on our side.
A putrid God of oppression and suppression
is on theirs.
with nothing to say the said is said
having left the scene no message coming back
why not shut up shut up
cricket chirping in the room for the 3rd night
trombone on the radio playing back to the chirps
turn the radio off, can’t turn off the cricket,
I’ve learned to listen, thanks to John Cage,
But all I hear now is a ringing in my ears
and the pulse of my heart beating.
In the other room the TV gets turned on
from lack of sleep, but very faint.
Outside as I almost fell down in the dark
going out there
Venus is right above a crescent moon.
Thin clouds obscure most everything else.
Larry Goodell was born in 1935 in Roswell, New Mexico, where crossing cattle trails meet the Pecos River. He is married to Lenore Goodell, photographer & phenologist, and has lived in Placitas, New Mexico since 1963, extending poetry into its ceremonial roots—performance, masks, costume, lighting, song, scene, with cloth or painted backings to poems when appropriate. Although tagged as a performance poet since the early 60's he loves the printed page and founded duende press in '64.