On Another Day

Like the Day Before Yesterday

This is the last thing I wrote on the first day, the last time Trump was elected.

Or perhaps the penultimate thing.

Another attempt to react honestly, directly, through images.

I will change the subject soon.

9.11.16 pm

I.

The wood on the hilltop

The hilltop wood

an image no longer adequate

for what

might be good

Several rewritten things

Some things said better

but not well enough to convince –

and now hence

and hereafter

What moved too fast for us to see

For our clarity

of blink and footstep uphill

we see all that will

die

II.

The mud in the wheel-rut

The thick grey mud

and outdated subject of what

1941 got

mixed with blood.

Singing brightly across Europe

A man posted a letter

to his already-dead cousin

for no reason;

no matter.

That word too fast too us to see

For our clarity

of milk and fascist bird-call

we neglected all

but the lie.