I'm re-writing John Ashbery and, this morning, this poem came out:
Witnessed in the Convex
Mirror
(#3
Trumping Syria)
Tomorrow
is easy, but today is uncharted
which
means the days need not be desolate
though
the President just bombed another
country
whose name makes it far-off, thus
theoretical.
It’s all perspective, you sigh, tired
knowing
the thought is not original. But this
is
what happens when your President bombs
another
country—the Poem, exhausted, resorts
to
clichés and lacks the requisite imagery.
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