nuclear war
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No Big Decision
Truman sat and stared out of an Oval Office window the rose garden was bare and the old President dead. Here before him was a weapon to cease all war unspeakable destruction, but unspeakable attraction. He was shown the footage a mushroom cloud rising from the desert floor briefly a new sun in the dark…
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War to End War
They’re all dead and have become legend the chewing of the mice in the mud and the groaning of the brothers trapped on barbed wires as the bullets screamed into their heads who could believe it happened? Who could believe that the gas volumetrically flowed over white and tired faces their gasmasks loose as…
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Warehouse
“Goddamnit’s hot!” reverberated through the alleyway. It was hot, over 90 degrees – if the thermometer he toted around in his old Woodman’s Market shopping cart could be trusted. He trusted so little these days. The red brick buildings stood around him, silent and sturdy. Unlike most of the city, they would last for decades…
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Generation Now
How are your check bones under the layers of flesh on your face? Does it hurt when you smile? My generation last vestige of the Cold War, bomb drill and the Red Menace, right watching live via satellite the utter collapse of what on paper was Soviet might. I was promised a world without war…
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Dark Dream
I recently had one of the most vivid dreams of my life. I was standing on a boardwalk in what may have been a city Like New York. Out in the bay a cascading series of nuclear explosions occurred. To say it was startling is an understatement. Here is a poem about it: In the…
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Curtis LeMay
Red and orange glints off of the buffered stainless steel bellies of cruel butterflies, and in curious curvatures the collapsing wooden homes are reflected on bubble glass. The flicker and leap of crackling paper browning and blackening where once was a room partition and a sleeping mat. The horrible bee buzz rumble overhead is the…
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Five Til’ Midnight
“What time do you have?” Looking down at his watch he saw in the smallest of flashing increments the minute hand twitch along its orbit, and the second hand swooping past around the face to pass the last notch at vertical zero. “Five til’ midnight,” was the terse reply. And yet he watched the…
The Numinous Cosmos 