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Friday, October 02, 2020


by Thomas R. Smith

Just to see and hear him on a screen
hurts the soul.  Stench of abuse.
The Abyss hijacks the microphone,
no muting the rant the psychotic
can’t switch off in his head.

The assault on truth is physical:
the viewer’s knees tremble, breath comes
up short.  Lies fly out of the mouth
in black streams.  They are his children:
father of lies, lord of the flies.

Damaged horror child exposed.
The networks call it a “debate.”
Burroughs called it “naked lunch.”
Yeats called it “rough beast.”  I call it
“rape in an abandoned  house.”

Thomas R. Smith is a poet and teacher living in River Falls, Wisconsin. He teaches at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. His most recent poetry collection is The Glory (Red Dragonfly Press).