Joshua Keiter

I’m the kind of listener
who keeps the radio on
even when it’s talking at me
asking for money I don’t have
just because it takes less effort
not to turn the voices off
and hope in a minute perhaps
they will return to their 
regularly scheduled programming.

You keep saying that
not in so many words
but the general idea
irritates my sensibilities
by which I mean
I have heard this before
not in such a manner
but you can’t tell me
that no one hasn’t said
such a thing as this
in quite the same way
for instance at any moment
someone must be saying
exactly the same words as this 
at precisely this very moment.

I ask
the sun
to stop
its shine
for once
I am
obliged.

I’ve been stringing together
so many jobs
that aren’t really jobs
like sleeping in
until an unreasonable hour
and struggling to see
the significance of getting out
of bed or the empty minutes
it takes until the coffee is ready
to say nothing of breakfast
which is always ready
just a few minutes before
I really should be having lunch.

Likely I am not the one
you were referring to
when you said you didn’t
understand the assignment
in that you didn’t comprehend
what’s been on the syllabus
for the entire semester
and are only just now
paying attention to
when it supposedly counts
even though there is no
exam in this course
it can’t be that difficult
to see that all you have to do
is hand in what you’ve handed in
already and if you lost
what you have written 
even if it was months ago
that’s fine you’ll just keep 
your grade as originally given
although I wouldn’t advise it.

It’s happening again
they’re murdering the young grass
every week whether it’s grown
or not 
at this rate
there will be nothing left
no stumps of dirt
or holes for critters
to burrow into
just the browned out earth
kicking up its own dust
until there’s a hole in the ground
and nothing else.

Beyond
The curtain
The frame
The window
The wire
The tree
The cloud
The moon

If by living
in the past
it is necessary

to bring the dead
back from the dead
then so be it

The idea is to make
the protests and
the counter-protests

so overwhelm
the auditorium
that no one can hear

the dissonance
or see the human
ritual sacrifice

to discern
the dancer from
the dance

I think we can all agree
We are living in the dystopia
We couldn’t have even imagined 
Only a few years ago

Another day I didn’t leave the house
For fear of allergies and cold
And the crippling inertia
Of ungraded compositions 

Next semester I plan on banning
Any and all possible topics
I will therefore teach
The topicless class

Students will be liberated
From their own minds
And also will be grateful
For the wisdom unparted

I can still grade papers
From the back seat of my car
While campus police prowls
For students illegally parked

In another life
I am a television set
On mute between stations
Making strange snowy loops

The twentieth century keeps passing away
There is nothing we can do to stop from leaving

Not only those who wrote them
But those who sang them

We live for such a brief while
But we are dead for so much longer

Soon enough nostalgia won’t even remember 
To say that they were there

Looking out across the big muddy gathering August
And needing something to sing

Finally strumming along and arriving at
Freedom