How to Have Opinions
Nap, said the monkey and we burst from our sofas.
Longer, said the parrot and we stretched our legs.
No, said the elephant. He was traveling today.
Rough cuts are in the can.
Checks are in the mail.
The world goes on again.
Shiny up our gravel in the rock tumblers
And desalinate the water for our lawns.
Make our dirt mean something.
I have lists. Trails are there to carry on.
After Dylan Thomas
No night is worth the rage
At close of day—not age or fright
Or what’s left of the wise.
Neither deed nor song of sun in flight
Should take our grief, our cries
This night, and set out to wage
Against the hour’s last pass.
Even our fathers, fathers faded
In the dying of their rage,
Diminish in the swell of light.
We bid them gone in the wane
Of dark and our hearts bloom, gentle.
Shhh now. All the night’s a stage.
No night is ever worth the rage.