Chernobyl
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National Poetry Month – 9 Dead Forest
“That forest is dead” our guide told us again. “The trees turned red, their needles sharp little vessels of poison. Even the dirt if disturbed can kill you in time. There are broken down elements secret atoms with unknown half-lives that are shadows and these shadows can never be illuminated. The army men, they came…
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National Poetry Month: “New Energies”
Chernobyl had its time as a beautiful thing, until its fragile steel and ceramic tile broke under the strain of concussive rebirth. It had its time when the Soviets came rushing in wearing nothing but rubber boots and cotton sheets. It collected souls. It swallowed them whole. It made its own power a new machine…
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26 April 1986
I don’t know what I am doing but that’s just how it goes from this control room I can see a march of lights bright red and gold like May Day in Moscow missles rolling away on diesel trucks the crowds in awe at apparatchiks in uniform vibrations underfoot like the stamping feet of endless…
The Numinous Cosmos 