Bert Stern |
After the Election
Dear Du Fu asks, “Does anyone like
the poems I write
after drinking the wine of the rich?”
Now America
drinks the wine of the rich. How can
poems
get written at all? I know, I know,
the dharma
is still the dharma, love, though it
must lie low,
is still the fire that warms us, the
sky, though
gray, hasn’t been jostled loose nor
the sun
and moon and stars and earth out of
their orbits.
Maybe the soot that’s fallen over
everything
will one day wash away.
--Bert Stern
Oh, Wow!!
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