Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Lachlan Brown #7 Americarnage


The angled timestamp shows my
stunned face under the map of red
states, constantly hitting f5 instead
of breathing. There are dangers close by,

and the small screen can’t distractify
us anymore, because the dragon’s head
rises from its electoral chamber, shred-
ing all November predictions. If I

turn my head I can see a full glass
overflowing, so someone will need to
make those pollsters gyrate again.
But for now, may the first be last,
or may another loser come into view,
beneath the demagogue’s shitty refrain

NB: This poem was written in response to Tony Curran's artwork below ('Nothing's Syncing to the Cloud from the Offices of NPR')


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