After Cesar Vallejo

            We will die on Earth in a hard dirty dust cloud,

on a day we now remember.

We will die on Earth – and we can’t run –

maybe a Tuesday, like today, towards the close of June.

 

            Tuesday, because today, Tuesday, when I prose

these lines, we have forced our heads upright again

unwillingly and, never like today have we,

with all our road, seen ourselves so alone.

 

            The human race is dead, we beat ourselves,

[and so many other plants and animals,]

without most of us doing anything to deserve it;

we got hit hard with a stick and hard

 

            likewise with a rope; witnesses are

all the days and nights of the week and all our vertebrae,

the loneliness, the dust clouds, the roads. . .

Comments

[Bob]

More than nicely done