Due to the Advances of Modern Politics

D u e t o t h e A d v a n c e s o f M o d e r n P o l i t i c s

We know that when we forgive a tree for falling alone

It does so quietly, so as not to disturb the concert Of coyotes applauded in a distant quarry by a one-armed

Stonecutter who wipes his brow with his one cuff And holds his chisel in his teeth. His image is out

Of focus in a mirror. Nearby, fleas varnish the withers Of his cart horse, or donkey. He curries the rump

With a chestnut husk. The aggregation of stone chips Carves the hooves to a natural angle. Here’s a list

Of people who must have an inner life: cooks, teachers, Cashiers and night stockers, drivers, painters and glaziers.

The ravine into town is full of beige flowers the bees cannot see. They swerve through the limestone pinnacles flush

With garments of dust. The Proletariat is marching again With all six legs this time, along the sills and shutters

Of our society, the red ones and the black ones, working Their mandibles in the roadways, in the government buildings,

Through the parks and into the open band shells. Easy targets To each other, and easier still—in AM or FM— to the pundits

Guiding us home across the bridges and freeways. All quite easy.