out of my dreams by richard rodgers and oscar hammerstein

L.A. Freeway by Guy Clark

Baby Q

A Whisper

a whisper
behind my eyes
it vibrates and my eyelashes flicker
if it does not see what it says, then it feels what it means
it says, "soft"
it says, "pretty"
come away with me
sink
slow
submerging
warm, tickling the hair on my arms
pulling
resting on soft silky tentacles of moss and green
blue, hugging
my mother's satin nightgown
a hot summer's afternoon blowing over my shoulders
the cool crook of my memory telling me...
"you remember sleep...let's sleep now."

The Prayer that God heard

A Prayer for the Nation and Our Next President, Barack Obama
By The Rt. Rev. V. Gene Robinson, Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire

Welcome to Washington! The fun is about to begin, but first, please join me in pausing for a moment, to ask God’s blessing upon our nation and our next president.

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will…

Bless us with tears - for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless us with anger - at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort - at the easy, simplistic “answers” we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience - and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be “fixed” anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility - open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance - replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.

Bless us with compassion and generosity - remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.

And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.

Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand - that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.

AMEN.

Jacques Dutronc

What a thrill I thought

What a thrill I thought
To sock you in the stomach
Right in the guts
The o-shaped comic book mouth acquiescing as I might expect
Watching
Feeling
My fist pushing, twisting, t-shirt
White
Around my knuckles, pulling out globs of you
…of who you thought you were
Dough
…of who you said you were
Sticking to my fingers I, in a panic
Flick to the floor
Still parts will not come off
My fingers pop and mock
I think I might fall to the ground and scrape the residual of him off like mud
Splaying my fingers where dry
Crackling in the lines of my hands
Flakes of you come off
What a thrill I thought