Wednesday, January 4, 2017


I've written my obituary and yours as well -
in cool, blue ink - the sperm of a star.
Every poet for hire in a hipster jacket
carries copies next to her heart.

The time has come to be kremlined, Comrade.
There will be sleep and sleep and sleep.
Let the Motherland read you the fake news at night
and tuck your covers around your feet.

Observe, the book - spider-cracked down its spine -
the broken back of the written word.
Behold, Students, the annexation -
the looming cliff, the herd!

Some musings on the future for Midweek Motif ~ Vision at Poets United


Cello Jolie said...

I especially like the first five lines.

Susan said...

Reading your poem, I feel I've plunged into another "Waste Land" and, if so, I will be glad for the sleep. This image:
"Let the Motherland read you the fake news at night
and tuck your covers around your feet."
Reminds me of how mom tucked me in and more sinister by far, Hitler's Germany pacifying and blinding its chosen people. OhGod, OhMyGod, the herd! the ciff! An amazing evocative poem.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oy, for so many years I read of such things occurring in other countries. NEVER would have dreamed I would worry about it happening in North America. You have aced the tone in this poem.

Sioux said...

The hipster jacket line. The spider-cracked down its spine book. And the "sleep and sleep and sleep" line--they're all gems.

Sara McNulty said...

This caught me right from the beginning. Strong and chilling poem, with wonderful imagery.

Gillena Cox said...

Very strong images of gloom and doom. And to crown it all the cliff and the herd, Splendid writing

Happy New Year

much love...

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Whoaaa this is such a beautifully eloquent write, MZ

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...


grapeling said...

I think WK commented, they come for the poets first.

well, fuck em if they do. no one said anything about living forever. ~