Atrocities, monstrous afterbirths from the womb of war
are livestreamed to the world: we’re all on Zoom with the war.
The World-Wide Web, chattered out by millions of Babbage machines
replaced the old Iron Curtain, woven on the clattering looms of war.
The info-ecosphere bulges, bloated with blood,
swollen on key-click counts, global consumers doomscrolling war.
The gas-pump death-rattles, hose swinging empty, ghost-chains
of a spectral economy junkie-sucking at the fumes of war.
Instead of a bomb-filled night
may there be darkness and peace.
Over a sunlit field
song of a lark in peace.
At the end of all my prayers
God, harken: peace.
Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside
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