Nice Work If You Can Get It

I'm celebrated for celebrating the uncelebrated.
                        - Studs Terkel


in that sense he was a poet, wasn’t he?
for what do we do but uplift    the overlooked
hold it to the light

like    the beggar    who
sticks his legs out    across the sidewalk
disrupting others’ reverie    with uncomfortable truth

the child    talking loudly    shoves the bug
in the grown-up’s face    insisting
look

the lone protester    outside
the high glass windows of the Drake
throws a rock    into the cocktail party

we just can’t agree with the world    on priorities
prize prophets    over profits
just look at our work    how it plods
along the topography    of the heart      
taking notes    endless notes

lazy with wonder    heavy with metaphor
we don’t get up when    the bell rings
leave the windows open    all through the storm 

you can’t rely on us
when the laundry needs tending
the grass is overgrown
and now the phone keeps ringing…

hopelessly preoccupied
we stare at the fine line of light
that caresses the piano on a late September noon 

study the fuzz on a crocus stem 

memorize with eyes closed
the squirm and eager    salty breathe of a warm puppy

we read the world in Braille
with our hands    our mouths

we feel the thrum and undercurrent
of the unspoken
our ears pressed to the silence
listening to the thundering approach
of the invisible