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| Image source: DonkeyHotey |
I
Among thirteen showy Mountebanks
The only intelligent thing
Was the hair of the Donald.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three Muslims.
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
What would Ayn Rand say?
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a blackbird
Are one for the books but not The Book.
V
I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of my inflections
Or the beauty of my brother’s.
Or Dad whistling
Just after Reagan.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass
The shadow of the candidate
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
A Princeton man
VII
.
O thinking men of Ohio,
Why to do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how my resume
Puts to sleep
The women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the Bible is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the candidate flew off the radar
Only Senator McCain
Seemed to notice.
X
At the sight of motorists
Merging after a green light,
Even the bawds of gluttony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
She throws stones
From her glass house.
Once, a fear pierced her,
In that she mistook
The shadow of her imagination
For babies.
XII
The tide is turning.
The candidate must be flying
But not back to Cuba.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon
It was snowing
Even in Louisiana
The candidate sat and waited
OHMMMMMM
Edmund Conti is a retired poet. He is still looking for his golden parachute.