the innocent
and the pawns
of power
suffer
the violence
of the world
other writing
tears in my eyes: for Istanbul
I sit here
in New York
5000 miles away
with tears
in my eyes
mourning
the lives lost
where my heart
lies
one thing I learned early on
no good news
comes calling
at six o’clock
in the morning
something I used to say, or at least according to Jimmy Powell I said it, though I seem to have lost it in the fog that covers much of those long ago years when alcohol, pinball, and bean & beef burritos from Lucy’s El Adobe at 2:30 in the am seemed to play a much too significant part in my life but thanks to Jimmy and also Randy Signor my memory is jarred awake on occasion to those moments of lucidity and foolishness that have left their impressions on my life
if I knew
I’d know,
but I don’t know
so I don’t know
a philosophy of sorts
you step off
the curb,
you cross
the street
friendship: how it works
you get back
what you put in
and you stop
putting in
when you stop
getting anything
back
from a line by Sung Po-jen
my voice hoarse
my throat dry
trying to reach
heaven’s ear
amid all the chatter
in the air
on war and its aftermath on this Memorial Day weekend
the waste
in lives
in homeland
the displaced
forever adrift
mourn the dead
the crippled
and damn
the greed
of politicians
and corporations
that profit
from all the misery
to dull a brain
a glass of wine
to dull a brain
too restless
to sleep
where you are
not here
yet always
here
in my heart
Leonard Durso 