The Meaning of Kennedy’s Death


Kennedy is dead.


In November, 1963, I climbed into the car,

Miraculously, because I was numb, and

We went home to watch, grieve, mourn.


In Dallas the whole crowd was shocked,

Thrown by the force of three bullets

Upon the soft, chill grass of the grassy knoll.



Damned camera.

Caught the shots.

Like us:

The frames in the National Archives

Are dulled by now

From repeated shootings. 


King. Robet Kennedy. Ben-Ladin. Lincoln.

McKinley. Garfield.


One little ideologue with a rifle

Can stop the earth from turning.


--November 22, 2013