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Will We Get Away With it?
October 24, 2020

Here we reward the worst crimes with a cushy job
at a White Shoe law firm that does pro bono work
for the ACLU.

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America on the Brink  / poetry  / Politics

On Reading That Some Physicists Posit We Are Living in a Computer Simulation
October 16, 2020

If life is a lucid dream or some near-perfect
computer simulation, do I risk waking up
to a world in which I can’t embrace you?

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America on the Brink  / poetry

Promises to Myself After Trump Loses the Election
October 12, 2020

While the Enola Gay circled overhead, I gained weight,
and obsessed over coverage of its flight: Would we be spared,

or perish? What orders have been given, and who or
what will the pilot obey? We paid for the plane and…

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America on the Brink  / poetry

How to Survive an Apocalypse
October 11, 2020

Humanity risks extinction because
we love the wrong things too much.
I am under no illusions. To love you is
to resist oblivion, to laugh at craters.

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America on the Brink  / poetry

Love Sonnet Written on Learning That the President Has Been Hospitalized
October 4, 2020

We knew these would be hard years; at least we can laugh,
say I love you, watch for the flags at half-staff.

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America on the Brink  / poetry

A Love Sonnet Written on the Occasion of the Death of Ruth Bader Ginsburg
September 19, 2020

I want to touch what aches in us, the light
we guard to stay alive. My dear, come quick.
I hear a knock; I’m afraid. Is it you?
I dare to open and let hope come through.

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America on the Brink  / poetry

Strolling Great Hollow Beach, Cape Cod 50 Days Before the Election
September 15, 2020

After four years, it has come to this:
I fear that all I love will go to ruins,
and my little son is playing on the dunes.

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America on the Brink  / poetry

Fluorescent Fire
August 30, 2020

O fluorescent fire, O heat that singes but not does burn,
would that you could consume me, I might never rise again
to brave fascist bullets or heroically weed my vegetable beds.

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America on the Brink  / poetry

My Holy War
July 3, 2020

I refuse to socially distance;
I won’t give up my freedom.
How short is the distance
between tyranny and freedom!

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America on the Brink  / poetry  / Politics

The Righteously Aggrieved
June 22, 2020

When statues topple, they do little heaving.
You will not see them celebrate long their fall
or mount the wreckage on a wall.
(Who are you to ask that they applaud
your moment of awakening?

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America on the Brink  / poetry

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