The Legends and the Gods, the Victors and Obliterations
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The flow of cosmic history through this mote
We call the world has always been a rush,
Not slow like muddy streams but more a bloat
Of rivers gorged with spate of snowmelt, gush
Of freshet flooding through the eons. Change
Comes hotly, rapidly, but always in
Cascade like lava in a flow whose range
Is like broad ravagery, wide rape. The sin
Is to imagine that the times of kings
And empires, ever ebbing, is the speed
Of normal circumstance. No. Chaos brings
Reptilian claws. They urge the world to bleed.
..The pell-mell songs of Sapphos have been brief
….By firesides, bringing pitiful relief.