“Nearby, in the gutter,
common wisdoms
still wriggling.”
–Paul Celan
The remains of old ideas,
ripe with anger, are
so deeply embedded
one breaks bones
only to find dust,
instead of marrow.
They raise their heads,
and laugh righteously
at their bitter lies.
Always, they wait nearby—
truncheons polished,
jackboots shined;
While common wisdoms
smile like the recent dead.
(April 24, 2018)
subtext 