So I walked up
The mountain to talk
To the wise man
Upon my arrival and
Before I could speak
He launched into a
Litany of complaints about
A hundred different things
Finally I said geez
Old man you need
To get out more
He turned and said
And go where where
Does the wise man
Go to complain when
Everyone else comes to
Him to complain perhaps
You should stay there
As I stay here
And figure yourself out
As I do too
And now I understand
Why the shaman willfully
Removes himself from society
It’s not to think
But rather to unthink
Life has a way
Of winding us up
Setting us about spinning
Like little toy tops
Bumping into the other
On the way to
God knows where that
At some point some
Of us climb mountains
Or walk into forests
Tired of being dizzy
All of the time
He makes me happy
He brings out the
Boy in me and
I bring out the
Man in him an
Elusive exchange of roles
One that provides memory
And one that provides promise
One that allows recollection
Of happier easier times
One that affords hope
For a better tomorrow
Our own time machine
After our Supreme Courts
Decision to eliminate autonomy
Over a woman’s body
I heard the oddest
Sound pop then pop
And pop pop pop
Very very strange indeed
Then more and more
Pops pop pop pop
Pop pop pop popping
A thunderstorm of popping
Now I know why
It was all the
Heads that have been
Buried in the sand
Popping up and realizing
That a government that
Gives freedoms can also
Remove them nothing
Is ever really guaranteed
When two things disparate
Come together things happen
Either they mix temporarily
Like boxers eventually returning
To their respective corners
Or they remain together
Like pen to paper
That without the other
Either has little purpose
Be either the boxers
Or pen and paper
Someone to be avoided
Or someone to keep
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 