Blood in our veins has a pulse,
a regular, regulated pulse.
Which sustains us with its prudent responsibility.
It’s with us our entire lives,
from Faraway Farm childhood on the rock,
to B of A almost foreclosure…damn their goddam eyes, sir!
But it’s still blood! It. Is. BLOOD.
It’s the color of sunsets,
and roses, and anger, and bullfights.
It is not Walmart , and the poisons of USA culture.
It is what we can be ,
till cancer or melancholia inconsolable takes it from us.
It is regularity, dependability, and PASSION.
Oh, it never stops for us. Never, ever.
Till we reach out in infinitely desperate passion
for our loved ones as it fades,
tortured onto inconsolableness by traitor pain.
Oh, what a contradiction.
Honor the wild blood.
Honor the wild blood.
Honor the wild, dependable clever blood.
W. Isaac Simons
August, 2016