by Ken McManus
Linear perception of the Balkanized has Americanized us:
Let us believe that forward motion is manifest.
We don’t see the elliptical nature of things,
Circles turning over and under, separate circles
Spinning concurrently, orbiting, rotating,
Like the universe or seasons or crops in the fields,
Or like the clouds of sand—
Billowing, filling, rolling over themselves, sweeping
In all directions on all planes—
Which will soon envelop our most tender buds,
Work as burial mounds for the other hemisphere’s
Most cherished.
Ken McManus has published poems most recently in Warpland (Chicago State University), Coloring Book (Rattlecat Press) and Word Is Bond (Unblind Communications). He lives with his family in Connecticut.