mostly everything around is alive
and teeming with life and expectation
and offering exuberant praises of thanks
perfectly tuned to the creation frequency: love
it’s springtime in america
and some days i’m right in tune with the times
and i bet some days you’re right in tune too
deeply in love with everything that is alive
and praiseworthy and on beat
it’s springtime
but still also america
and this moment
this very moment feels and sounds off, way off
and familiar too
like skipped needle over vinyl, off
like sugar in your grits when you prefer salt, off
like calling your mother by her first name, off
like bombs dropping everywhere children are, off
like sheep being led to the slaughter
like america since the beginning