1984

    Pilgrims faring forth, thus we launched the plot.
    Frankly, since then, things haven't gone so hot.
    High intent, courage, moral purpose, these seem out of place
    one might almost conclude the nations skidded out of grace.
    Vote and tally taken, once again, a nebbish at the helm
    Senor Deficit, all façade, he would MaGog o'whelm.
    With moans and sighs, cheap groans and bitter tears,
    A patient Jeremiah might go on for years.
    But as the bark comes clear the reef
    So let our hunger push us past this grief.
    Let's spin some joy, even if pure fable
    And then attack this groaning table.
    If pity stares from every human hand—
    Do we still not have the land?
    Thanks to the hand that does imbue
    the rolling hills with morning dew,
    the gentle rain, the verdant green,
    sweet sunset on the bay serene.
    Even those condemned to ice and snow
    can gather round the fireside glow.
    Are not the roots of Human Love so strong
    to crack the shell of hate before too long?
    May this poor bird, who's offered up his all
    awake within us that deepest human call.
    Let us give thanks, for what we'll someday see
    A world at peace, all peoples well, fruit of love's great tree.


    1985

    The bird that eyes us from yon platter
    might well explain just what does matter
    whether one's fate lies in one's hands
    or if secretions of the glands
    decide who rules, where fall the chips
    and sometimes launch a thousand ships
    Who thinks himself master of the feast
    proves in this light a perfect beast.
    To cringe in peace or roast in war
    the world's no roost to crow secure
    the vault of time might crack tonight
    O God! The Giants in Denver might alight.
    But, lest we torture our nodding brains
    with incalculable and Dantesque pains
    fall to and gobble down one last meal
    our cooks have been busy, no small deal—
    scattered may be our dear loved clan
    without mercy, or apparent plan
    while some of us are growing prey
    others just begun to play
    must now together share a wish
    for peace, now—to the dish.


    1986

    That proud and lusty TURK, once forger of his fate
    Now through History's quirk, lies roasted on our plate.
    The strait drawn pen, the deep hot pot, twin villains of this poem
    Confined this bright and winged soul, which
    once the wildwood roamed.
    Who knows what will be—all's in a frightful flux,
    A-tearing folks asunder, frankly, I think it sucks.
    Drear circumstance nefarious has driven friends afar
    We sit at tables various, curse of some foul dark star.
    Alas, civility—O, mutability!
    O Dear, says NANCY, so gloomy, and those words—
    Davey, I think your grace is simply for the birds,
    How about some moral uplift, some poetic diction?
    Besides, we're all alive and well, your pout's indulgent fiction.
    Think about young AMBER, success, new homes, new friends.
    Don't write like you're some Jeffers living at world's end.
    Well, as so often must be true,
    To get at truth you need minds two.
    The years our bodies frazzle, yet fatten wisdom's stock—
    We know more loss and hassle, but learn to take life's knocks.
    So GRACE descends, from the dark, it makes us all shiver—
    Love without end, brilliant the spark, pure gift of the GIVER.


    1987

    Bright pyrocanthus, rich ruby stained cranberries
    Proclaim this time of feasting, making merry—
    Hot ovens pour forth sweet aromas
    Cholesterol counts go into comas.
    Due—humble thanks. Give Nature's works a cheer!!
    (We didn't destroy them for ANOTHER year!)
    We've been un-Borked, Glasnost gives us hope.
    Strange, amazingly, towards peace we seem to grope.
    (Even if the Giants fell
    the year's not consigned to Hell)
    May the vision of John Winthrop's time
    & Jefferson's ideals escape the corporate slime.
    For friendship, freedom, fairness let us plead,
    snatch back the flag from tentacles of greed.
    Let's roll back Reagan's foul corruption
    and bring forth love's ultimate eruption.
    The beauty of the universe
    defies reduction to a verse
    no need, from us, of hymns of praise—
    just, amend our ways.
    Oh, I almost forgot
    Let's eat while the turkey's hot!


    1988

    We did, O Lord, compose this GRACE
    Antecedent to November Eighth
    From fear we'll vote in Bush and Quayle
    For then my heart must utterly fail.
    The A's o'ercome, then Bush to win—
    Awesome must have been our SIN.
    Of hope to hope I do despair
    Merits our land this odious pair?
    NO!! We mustn't let ourselves get blue
    But think of Nineteen ninety-two.
    Each of us, we all must vow
    To turn AMERICA around...