Voortrek

zumpoems

Voortrek

Twisting and deforming
Raging daemonic forces
Scream across the veldt.
              Corkscrew clouds
              Peeling off our thin, Formica-top civilization.

                            No Oz awaits;
                            Dorothy and Toto have headed for the shelters.
                            The only Munchkins, mutants.

Your fault
My fault
No fault.

              We pulled the cork,
              The Jinn gave their notice;
              And History’s in its familiar whirlpool
              With vertigo the fashion of today.

Like hunkered hedgehogs
Curled in spherical,
Lance-backed laagers,

We have one option:

              Shut our eyes
              And wait for the dust to settle.

— Zumwalt (1981)

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About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on January 25, 2014, in Reposted from elsewhere. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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