You are not alone.

It really helps me to know now, that none of this was normal.

It really helps to know that we never really had a chance.

Helps to know, there really were cliques, even in Elementary School.

That cheerleaders and football players really were about keeping artists and thinkers out of style and out of sway.

That there literally really were poisons they called food, they intended us to eat.

We ate them.

And that they were all around us.

Cars really are dangerous. 60,000 deaths a year, a Vietnam.

Every year.

They just didn’t tell us, superhighways are deadly and the world’s end is really and truly always imminent.

In The Handmaids Tale, she scrawls “You are not alone,” inside the closet wall.

Where no one can see.

Because at least, there was someone.



An identity.


In finding out that meat and dairy, are not merely linked to pharmaceuticals, but that cancer’s cure was kept from us; and that there really never actually was an incurable disease, the antidote, we were made to think, was the hemlock.

That the whole industry deliberately made decades and decades of precise, cold, calculated, and diabolic efforts to keep people sick, to keep selling drugs and meat.

That the third world will never eat.

Were never meant to eat.

We were never meant to be cured.

That there really was and is – a Ministry of War, they call The Ministry of Peace.

That war is invented to sell missiles.

Really and truly.

Conspiracy is all we know, and so naturally invisible to us.

That jobs really indeed are a modern slavery, intended to keep you distracted.

That your tasks were always utterly unimportant.

So only certain men become entrepreneurs.

So you’ll think twice about taking any risks, and have kidssssssss… Kids.

The eternal chain, that by its very merit, pulls you down by your own devices.

So you’re too guilty to recover.

Meanwhile there is no need for kids.

And meanwhile the bombs fall.

On their. Kids.

This is REAL.

I never really thought it was really, …real.

You bet your life it is.

You bet your life, cause every race for the cure, is actually a race to the death.

5 men own half the world. I’ll send you the link.

A race for your life, you never had a chance in living.

My Grandmother died at 64.

My mom at 49.

My uncle, at 49.

My other uncle, at 62.

My daughter’s family in which her uncle died at 20, her grandfather, long before she was born.

My Dad, Gentle Giant of Ideas.

Untrammeled Word in poetry.

Attempted suicide. At 71. And still, at the hilt of the Bigger Word, to the Good News, the light of his mind, scarcely trembles. 

My Mission is Moses.

I really wish it was.

It’s all normal, he says.

As will he say, eternally.

He is not alone.

Plenty scarcely tremble or lift a brow.

Airliners crashing into buildings.

Were always coming.

Were always there.

Terror tends to crop up almost solely around elections.

No one bats an eye.

There will be more, and will call it Boston Strong.

Or New York Strong.

We will call it, resilience.

Resist. It says.

Resist. sponsored, by ‘Surrender.’

We weren’t hijacked.

Cause the very game is called: “Hijacked.”

We just…didn’t look at the cover. But we bought it.

Oh boy, we bought it.

See, I used to think this was all my fault.

That only I could prevent forest fires.

Grenfell Tower falls.

But really.

It helps me to know that all of this was never normal.

And you are not alone.