Driving south on Highway 89
along the west shore of Lake Cayuga
from Seneca Falls to Ithaca,
listening to a thin crackle of radio
before it’s lost beyond the hill:
Ken Burns is telling Terry Gross
the story of the Vietnam War
in three photographs —
A South Vietnamese general executing
a suspected North Vietnamese spy
just like walking down the street,
the moment the bullet strikes the brain
(why were we there, taking sides?)
A naked girl on fire, fleeing
her napalmed village
(the futile horrors we inflicted)
A young woman crouched over her dying friend,
shot by the National Guard at Kent State
(the war on our brothers and sisters at home)
and I say we and our because to see the photos
on the front page of every hometown newspaper
made us all complicit in the violence.
Henceforth, my new and favorite poems will be at the new blog titled New New Liminga Blues.
Please follow me to (and at) New New Liminga Blues by clicking the live link.
This blog has said all it has to say.
2008-2016, Rest In Peace.
Please visit, like, follow, bookmark, favorite, my new blog, https://newnewlimingablues.wordpress.com/
Thank you for 8 wonderful years. Into the future we go.
Did I mention please visit my new blog, https://newnewlimingablues.wordpress.com/?
Ray Sharp, The Bard of Liminga
He dreamed of three blackbirds
perched on a catenary wire
like the ages of man, clear-
eyed, beaks slightly parted
in silent, knowing laughter.
Some memories are dark stains
that never fade, that sharpen
like shadows in white light,
dreambirds. He picks a rock,
hefts it in his mind, takes aim.