May Day

 

May Day morning at Wrenheim in Naturita Canyon

May Day

“Let the millionaire go naked, stark naked!”

                     —César Vallejo

May the multi-billionaires bankrolling proxy cock rockets for the 1% to escape stop.

May they instead fund food desert grocery stores, wellness checks, dental exams, universal health care, apprenticeships, journalists, trade school, college, trains, buses, marching bands, drumlines, symphonies, poetry readings, and neighborhood puppet shows, two free cold drinks per attendee.

May solar panel and wind turbine farms replace golf courses and parking lots.

May megachurches, shopping malls, and munitions factories shelter the shelterless.

May corporations and the rich pay their taxes like any entry-level janitor.

May minimum income let no one hunger.

May guns become curios.  

May not one more child be shot.

May all go garmented as wanted.

May no one struggle between lights or groceries, groceries or medicine, medicine or rent.

May throwing money at problems solve them.

Unlimited music streaming services, tiny homes, and spicy vegan snacks for everyone!

My brain’s a pessimist, my heart a Marxist, stomach an anarchist, feet the downtrodden.

My soul’s on the side of kids throwing rocks at cops.

May only their helmets and shields be thumped.

May anyone ill be healed.

May the North Atlantic garbage patch—marine debris and microplastics hundreds of miles across—be engineered to serve as refuge paradise for everyone whose islands rising waters overwhelm.

May personal solar-powered cooling suits be distributed to the populace, embroidered with one of three slogans in Esperanto: “Hot and bothered,” “Just chilling,” and “Sorry!”

May hands exert themselves for common purpose.

May the sleep of the people be bountiful.

May the dreams of those sleeping in work clothes contain no labor.

May we wake with the happy idea of infinite wishes.

Sheep Mountain