[b]poem which, when held at the proper angle, becomes a portrait of michael gira[/b]

the sky suddenly deep with
the weight
of approaching autumn

the poems like small miracles
or minor saints

like ordinary men shot dead
on quiet streets
in front of their wives and children

and i want to tell you that
the violent acts of strangers don’t matter
but you turn away

i want you to believe
that love is some sort of salvation
but i can never say it with
a straight face

look at gandhi

look at lennon

think about what it means
when a newborn baby is found
in a knotted plastic bag on
a philadelphia sidewalk

think about the sun

pure white light traveling
through all of that empty space
just to show you how dark
your future will be

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