soon our searching grew
first by canoe and then
our ropes were loosened by
a small flat-bottom fishing boat
that carried us through creeks
and woods and ancient dwellings
at the ends of this or that slough

but even more fond
are the memories of the nights
evenings where my friend’s mother
whom i also called mom
would sit with us on the pier
under the light of the stars
and the sometime moon

it was here
that the woman who would
later bring me to poems
thrilled us with her musings
of ghosts and god and ufos
dreams of death angels and
visitations from the recent dead
tickling our imaginations

and while those tales seem almost silly now
it was on that pier
that two stargazing boys
sunburned with icarus wings
first explored the murky depths

i was a late convert english major
with a lot of catching up to do
but i found my purpose
tintern abbey took
possession of me
in the lake district
far from balliol or the wye
i was transcendent among
hills water mountains
grass almost too green

a midsummer night’s dream
transported me
in stratford
a simple production
scant scenery and props
spoke immortal words
in contemporary dress
the beauty of the bard
broke the boundaries
of my world

i had a lot to think about
struggle with
learn

i was twenty-one
there were girls to pursue
girls with far less clothing than
the frumpy woolen sweaters
worn in england
yet even that could not drown out
the hype of the crimson tide
expecting a big year

i was so alive
my brain exploding with
expectation and possibility
when aunt edie met me at the airport
and told me about the tumor

this is because
the purported party
of jesus is in truth the party
of the pentateuch and paul
of thou shalt nots and
accusations of abominations
and along the way they’ve
become the party of
mammon and the market
having traded in the
golden rule for an idol
made of gold

but even though this
kind of light is not
to be found in christ
they have come to find
there is no room in the end
for metaphors of camels
and needle’s eyes because
the metaphor of giving all
you have to the poor
is more appropriate
to serve as just
a metaphor one
that nicely illustrates
our current and
compassionate worldview
which also finds comfort
in knowing that
loving your neighbor
is safe to do again now
that we’re in a gated community

all of this is further
evidenced by the hottest
new business model
of the new millennium
where charismatic entrepreneurs
preach the nondenominational
gospel of wealth in their mega
churches of jesus capitalism
selling the party of christ
to their faithful but less
fortunate flocks so that
their fleecing may more
efficiently pad their ledger’s
bottom line and better yet
it’s all tax free as long
as you don’t speak out
against war in iraq

and yet so many
christians still believe
that jesus would have
been a republican

but even more fond
are the memories of the nights
evenings where my friend’s mother
whom i also called mom
would sit with us on the pier
under the light of the stars
and the sometime moon

it was here
that the woman who would
later bring me to poems
thrilled us with her musings
of ghosts and god and ufos
dreams of death angels and
visitations from the recent dead
tickling our imaginations

and while those tales seem almost silly now
it was on that pier
that two stargazing boys
sunburned with icarus wings
first explored the murky depths

ou didn’t seem so young then
in fact you seemed much older
much more mature than you probably were
but you were barely twenty-four
and now at thirty-three
i look back
and you seem like a child
struck down so innocent
so young

but at the time
you were my older brother
the one i was only starting to like
after years of growing up
your little brother

i’ve always blamed a lot on you
my shyness my trepidation
my fumbling too apologetic tongue
i was constantly afraid
you pounding me with threats
when i was a child
although i can never remember
you hurting me
or even hitting me

you were just being the older brother
i now know that
you didn’t mean anything by it
but it nevertheless affected me

you were my older brother
the one i never thought of
as a role model
you were never good in school
you were basically a screw up
smoking and drinking
playing daredevil

and even after i stopped being afraid
after we finally became friends
i never wanted to be like you

yet now
twelve years later
i’m finding out i was wrong

you were one of the funniest people
i’ve ever known
you might have been the strongest
and you certainly proved yourself
to be the bravest

i am still amazed
that it wasn’t your stupid stunts
it wasn’t anything in that crazy head of yours
that got you
that probably should have
long before

it took something silent sinister
a tumor hidden secretly in your brain
while i was away at school
and although i came back
long before you left for good
i never really got to say goodbye

i just wish i had known then
before then
that i should have
wanted to be like you

schools and cities
everywhere remain
sharply segregated
to the extent that
maps are drawn
in racial lines and
many school systems
are now seeking to
resegregate themselves
since their mandates
have finally expired

but another kind of
sinister segregation
still perseveres under
the guise of christianity
where countless religious
schools ensure continued
inequality by allowing
white children of privilege
to remain separate
a clever legal loophole
that disables the public
school systems and
thereby disables opportunity
for many whose color
or class consign them
to live out their lives
confined by bold red lines
those unwritten lines
that remain on every map

if education truly is
the lighting of a fire
then why must the
fuel still be the cross

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so it would be thinking too much
then to consider the story
with its oscar-winning music
and its classic coming of age plot
an allegorical representation
of american politics in the
early nineties from the right
where scar the evil agent of
the morally corrupt liberal left
tries to topple the traditional hierarchy
by integrating the hyenas
from across the tracks
into the mainstream society
and it would surely be reading
too much in to the film to associate
the visual imagery of this alliance
with the dominant images
of communism in china and ussr
despite the fact that the final image
of that scene shows a hyena
howling at the yellow moon
bearing an amazing resemblance to
the outline of a hammer and sickle
nor should we be terribly alarmed by
how this forced assimilation destroys
the prosperity of the prideland
by bringing famine and drought
or how the restoration of the rightful
white guy to the throne instantly and
remarkably restores beauty and plenty
to the society and to the world
i mean it was just a children’s movie

and now fourteen years later
we would like to believe that america
has turned a corner of sorts
but even after suffering through
a simba-like rule that turned
plenty into plight
we now have two unexpected
challengers to the throne
an african american man and a woman
trudging through endless primaries
and just when it seems the black man
has secured his party’s nomination
his female opponent
the wife of the source of all
the backlash from before
is playing on the same subtle racisms
that were subtexts in the film
not only is the black man’s campaign
being bombarded in the media
with continual racial and religious
nagging and being faced with
outrageous and offensive
treatment on the trail
but his opponent is saying that
she should be the nominee
because of landslide victories
in lilywhite mason-dixon states
that she should be the next
president because this clearly means
she is the stronger candidate
since she does so much better
among working-class americans
hardworking americans
white americans
real americans

and so we hear the same old notes again
only without cute animals and songs
and the new lion king will therefore be
almost assuredly the same color
as simba only possibly a bit more queen-like