Missing . . . Again

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        When I first posted this back in the summer, I got a number of responses amounting to faithful readers scratching their heads and saying, "What the hell is this supposed to be about? Where's your romantic, cloud vaporizing dreamy karma drivel?"


I tried answering a couple of them, but I realized pretty early on that if I had to explain myself there was no use explaining it at all. Instead, out of deference to those readers, and figuring that for each person who was choking on the cryptic meter of "Missing" there had to be ten who were just as baffled but weren't saying anything, I pulled it.


Then I got to thinking. I don't write this blog for anyone except me. Anyone who reads it is an invited, benevolent, literary voyeur, welcome to visit my teepee anytime, as long as she understands she's a guest, not a resident with a say in how I run my camp. If she likes what she reads she comes back for more, and she tells her friends, "Hey, this guy writes some good shit." On the other hand, if it itches like a pair of woolen underwear, I guess she doesn't come back, or she returns infrequently, reluctantly. And she never brings it up with her friends again.


Anyway, I meant to post this the first time, and I meant  for it to make my readers think about what it was saying. I also intended for it to stay with the pantheon of blogs that came before it, and so stay it shall. Proud, loud . . . aroused, "Missing" is meant to be as romantic and introspective as a dropped and running chainsaw.


Read the papers, watch the news,

Get out of bed, you'll sing the blues.


It's a broken world, my friends, and nothing's where it oughta be.  Missing hearts, missing souls; missing young, missing old. Everybody's missing (the point).




   Missing


Missing daughters, missing sons

missing pieces, missing guns

Missing morals, missing roads

missing papers, missing notes

Get up in the morning, and you read the news

Crawl back in bed with the worried world blues


Missing planes, missing teeth

missing minds, missing feet

Missing water, missing food

missing deadlines, missing you

Get in your car and go for a drive

Close your eyes and hope you get home alive


Missing buildings, missing drones

missing history, missing ozone

Missing money, missing clouds

missing minds, missing out

Buy your soulmate, short or tall

Buy your whole life at suburban malls


Missing fences, missing doors

missing borders, missing floors

Missing data, missing bombs

missing fathers, missing moms

California to New York City

Only victims, no accountability


Missing lakes, missing air

missing tires, missing hair

Missing promises, missing jaws

missing points, missing laws

Take out your phone, ignore who’s next to you

Text your friends and Jesus, they’re missing too





Originally published December 12, 2013

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