The News


 I’ve been mired in bad news trickling ceaselessly, babbling brook,

of downgrades and bailouts, unemployment figures, austerity,

revisions of economic forecasts, shelling and bombing, rigged elections-

all the bitter poetry of our times.

You can handle it once.

You hunker down for the bad times, provisions laid, windows boarded,

when hurricane strikes you put your head down, hold hands with your family,

even like the enforced cosiness, the simplicity, the fear now shared.

But when storm after storm buffets your nest? When supplies run low,

And your hell becomes other people?  When temporary becomes fixture

And still there is no deeper change, no molecules reformed or restructured?

Just furtive squeeze made manifest.