Sunday, December 31, 2006

Two Double-O Six becomes dust in the murk.

"In the numb, numberless days
There were disasters in the distance.
Strange upheavals. No one understood them.
At night the sky was scored with light,
for the planes of the planet buckled and burned.
In the dawns were intervals of darkness
On the scorched sky, clusters of clouds and eclipse,
And cinders descending.
Nearer in the noons
The air lay low and ominous and inert.
And eventually at evening, or morning, or midday,
At the sheer wall of the wood,
Were shapes in the shadows approaching,
Always, and always alien and alike.
And in the foreground the fields were fixed in fire,
And the flames flowered in our flesh."

The Burning, by N. Scott Momaday (1975)

There is an apocalyptic mood much like McCarthy's THE ROAD. Numb nothingness. Ashes and cinders in the air. Dark figures watching for a chance to attack from the shadows.

Disasters in the distance: Vietnam. Iraq. The flowering of flames in human flesh. From napalm to "improvised explosive devices."

There are some rough beasts out there slouching around.

Wonder where they're headed next?

Probably the year Two Double-Zero Seven.

1 Comments:

Blogger john hanson said...

great poem
a like the alliterative effect
consonance and what have you

there will be wars and rumors of wars

i guess dubbya needed something to
feel good about before the end of the year...so he had someone killed

it always worked when he was running texas into the ground
just kill somebody

the explosions and flames
of ignorance half-baked
idealistic diplomacy
words unchecked by
reflection
forcing the issue
of human fodder
the young and stupid are being
offered to the mouth of the fiery beast

here's a quote for you
from the divine office
of Jan, 1 Mary...the mother of god
theotokos

"your wondrous and fruitful virginity
is like the bush
flaming yet unburned
that moses saw on sinai
pray for us
mother of god"

who ever said the christian were prudes

i pray for the repose of sadaam
may he be granted 70 virgins
or some white raisins
which ever comes first

requiem in pacem

hey are those blades i hear
being sharpened?
who are those fire-eyed
people in the street
with heads wrapped in
cotton scarfs
hey
aren't we related to them somehow

anon

1:18 PM  

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