"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



She approaches the door in leathers  cottons+denim  Brittle

rain slanting down on bone-chilling March day   Does not

head out  into fray   Closes the door sits on chair  upholstered

with grapes on vines  Foot beats time to American Roots music

Fiddle sorrowful  banjo plucky    She does NOT move


Early spring inertia brought on by news:  500 women+children

kidnapped  yet again   Boko Haram taking over the world  one

village at a time   Souleymane Ali  local trader quoted B.H. :

They are slaves so we’re taking them because they belong to us

His wife & daughter not excluded


There is no protection  by the army of  Goodluck Jonathan   On the

road to Damask 100 bodies lay  many with throats slit by retreating

madmen  And from their desert prisons Ceres is a beacon  46,000 k. away

Ancient asteroid shines a light on plight of 500 newest slaves


Obama said he’d find  the girls  but can we blame him for all our ills?

While big dim +obscure Ceres (a.k.a.: apt description of G.L. Jonathan)

is about to be explored by NASA’s Dawn Mission     Would it require

rocket-science to locate 500 people?   Infrared cameras operate in the

dark at wavelengths as long as 14,000 nanometers!


Yet we are driven to explore rocky+primitive way stations to God?  Planets

that have not changed much over the past 4 billion years    Ceres is 2.8

times farther from the sun than earth  & is likely stone cold   Of course you

know  warm hearts beat all over the Nigerian hinterland


What more is there?  The last traces of dinner gone   glasses washed   &

gleaming  on this soon  barely remembered day   When hundreds of small

feet marched  on their way  to guerrilla camps  +new husbands



Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the 

deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they

hummed of mystery.   Cormac McCarthy  The Road



Spring  2015

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