A civil war is slated to begin
today, that doesn’t bode civility.
The sane know Donald didn’t get the win –
he opened avenues to public hate
and celebrated racist origin
with media-magnetic vitriol.
America has taken on the chin
four awful years of unreality
amounting to obscenity, and din.
(Magic 9)
Let’s posit their shenanigans succeed –
has anyone considered consequence?
The neos act as if they only need
an overturn to make the country…What??
A semi-continent with resource-bleed;
a culture cropped with bigotry and lies;
a catechism based on hate and greed;
a place with no place for intelligence.
To what have these Republicans agreed?
(Magic 9)
I’m fortunate. I really shouldn’t rant,
but Monday mornings are intense and tough.
Committed to long exercise, I can’t
be Sunday sedentary. That’s a rough
reality, but add to it the store,
for usually I’m mostly out of food.
I have to hike an hour to get more.
The tasks combine to devastate my mood.
I walk there early to avoid the line.
So few are out I seldom need a mask
until I’m in the store. And I confine
the coffee till I’m finished with that task
(it’s bad enough without the urge to piss).
My homecoming’s a precious sort of bliss.
At least 8 years ago, the oldest boy
installed a classic game on my machine.
His younger brothers each grew to enjoy
the play (the instigator’s now 15).
I showed it to their cousin. It’s a toy
that toddlers’ parents ration, fearing screen
time will distract their kid and dim his light.
Of late, I play alone when I should write.
(Ottava Rima)
The market where I shop is small and old,
and never crowded early in the day.
I walk there first-thing, when the air’s still cold:
unmasked en route in solitude’s my way.
But neither Internet nor instinct told
me they’d be closed to lengthen holiday.
I ventured and returned with empty pack,
but savored rain-washed air outbound and back.
(Ottava Rima)
We didn’t track the AQI, until
the fires grew so frequent and nearby.
With Covid now increasing daily kill,
we pay attention to how many die.
Some commentators claim deaths don’t exceed
the normal numbers (yes I sometimes read
the radical, the way my brother views,
as counterpoint and test of strength, Fox News).
Mercola makes some points. And I’m too old
to trust the words of governors or trade.
But haven’t crowded hospitals displayed
compelling evidence, and dreadful cold
hard numbers? ICUs and EMTs
make obvious the toll of this disease.
It took until December for the trees
to lose their leaves. We’ve had a little rain
that brought down ash – particulate debris
from all the awful fires of the fall.
The daytime peaks at 59 degrees
and, finally, we’ve turned the sprinklers off.
We don’t expect big rain or any freeze,
but winter’s here. I’m stuck in my domain.
The days are short and now the yard agrees.
(Magic 9)
I think I learned to read when I was five,
and ever since I’ve pored and written much.
Romantic as a teenager, alive
to origin and nuance, I am such
a language addict that I comprehend
the character of words more ways than most.
I’ve learned the drive that powers – threatened end
ignites pro-action in a mortal host.
Inspiring art, some work was then produced,
but doubtless there was activism too
that didn’t get an accurate report.
For sure some rage and violence was loosed.
We witness white males acting out. It’s true
that hate precedes their art as last resort.
When Harald conquered fiefdoms to unite
the northern monarchies, most wouldn’t bow.
They took to ships and settled Iceland right
away, and wrote the sagas we read now.
When Austen crafted novels, change afoot
enclosed the land and filled the air with soot.
Her art ensnared a dying way to be,
preserving what she knew (and pleasing me).
Just so, the culture heretofore controlled
by alpha males with paltry melanin,
is in its winter now. Its decadence
precedes its death – its centuries have tolled.
Adherents are in panic – they can’t win
the future, and they rage for recompense.
A year ago I thought I caught a cold,
except it never moved the way mine do.
Bronchitis didn’t come. My body told
me virus penetrated, moving through
my upper torso to pollute my gut.
I’m old and never felt that way till then.
It took some weeks to pass – I don’t know what
it was, but I’ve not been unwell again.
And then the lockdown came – the house arrest
that shut me in and took away the meals
in restaurants, the bus rides and the train.
I started wearing masks. Like all, I stressed
about pandemic, answering appeals.
Throughout, I haven’t had a cold or pain.
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