Poetry in Plague Time

Purpose is to show a quote that defines me.
Redemption preserves itself in a small crack in the continuum of catastrophe. Walter Benjamin

Poems Contra Nice

Ambient anxiety
is not the only ubiquity
in the air.
Hands raw from washing
that can’t stop.
Obsessive? 
Compulsory into compulsive? 
Our virus lives 
canceled?
We keep bracing 
  • for elbow bumps 
  • and foot taps 
  • and air gap handshakes 
and we wonder, 
“Please, might we have a consoling poem?”
Where is the solace?
Where are the poets of salve and sanitation? 
Where are their sonic reassurances ?  
Listen. 
They are there.
They are not solace,
but bloody sirens in the tornadic night,
raves  
pushing against the real quarantines,
birthing new practices 
that won’t necessarily be nice. 

3 Comments


  1. // Reply

    Where are the poets of salve and sanitation?

    here, maybe?

    K


  2. // Reply

    I do not count myself among those who think poetry’s first purpose is to offer salve-ation, but I like all manner of poems. The only requirement I require is fearlessness. Why even speak if it’s not with remorselessness?

    Harsh? I spose.


  3. // Reply

    I like poems. Thank you

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