90

The atmosphere, serene above the world
Does not give way to clamor down below
For in the sky, minute and boisterous beings
Remain unseen among the stars and clouds.
The atmosphere, too high to spy where lines
And borders break and merge, where voices
Can be felt or heard, is ignorant amidst
a life of boundaries drawn in earth.
The atmosphere, forever moving round
Bears witness to what history has lost,
Observes the planet’s turn, the turn of time
Above the screaming world, continues on.
The astral plane slips by without a trace,
For humans can’t be seen from outer space.
HM

89

The too small sea divides their lands and taunts,
Reflecting back their own unruly coifs.
Such brazen threats each leading power flaunts!
Atop a missile one large bomb may sit,
As others launch in tests to check their range.
Fear is the fire with which the fuse is lit;
Once set they’ll say the course cannot be changed.
Ships sail to prove this action will not stand;
Afloat, so many wade into the dark.
Tests fail, wills fray, and some do not command
Respect, until it ends without a spark.
If we survive, one man will sound too breezy;
Of war and peace, the Donald will say, Easy!
CS, AD

88

“Strategic patience.”  That is what it’s called.
A euphemism standing in for peace.
Fewer than a hundred days, in all.
Yet probabilities for peace decrease.
And like a child kneeling at a pond
Who sees himself, his image, reflecting,
Though he knows that deep below has spawned
A bubble that is rising, surfacing,
Our country slowly watches, filled with horror.
The bubble ripples through the peaceful scene.
Our government has changed, a new director
That leads us to a war we do not need.
They warn Korea, “Don’t test his resolve!”
But ours is tested.  Already they fall.
SF

87

A leader must go beyond first impressions
Inauguration’s only the beginning.
He thinks that his responsibility’ll lessen
But he ridesor goes down withhis vessel.
When asked to show to all his hidden records,
He can’t imagine why these pesky checkers,
The choosing over, still would play this game.  
He claims that “no one cares” about his taxes,
Now that his win has put him past all motive,
For who would care to know the crucial facts,
When victory beyond the truth has floated.
But prudence takes more than a simple glance,
And leaders lead with diligence, not chance.
PTL

86

A new shield of secrecy for the US:
Logs of the flume of White House traffic
Will be kept secret. Bush hid his guests,
Trump tweeted in contradiction.  Classic.
Is the Trump era about secrecy?
Where are the tax returns, the proof of claims?
Tweets mean little, Trump, at your frequency.
Give facts to us and terminate your games.
Transparency can’t be weighed against cost.
$70,000 is chump change, chump!
To save money, cease your golfing fast.
While you see children play hide-and-seek
Childish leaders seek to hide and reap.
—OS, NN

85

We blamed the bummer of all moms on them.
We clapped another of our palms on them.
We trained a number of our jobs for them.
We slapped a smother of napalm on them.
We stopped a plumber of Saddam’s with them.
We mapped the weather of the Somme on them.
We propped a duffer full of psalms on them.
We swapped our rudder for dot-coms with them.
We napped while others went to prom with them.
We blew our cover for pogroms on them.
We thought we uttered our salaams for them.
We spent one summer with the qualms for them,
And then we sputtered out, embalmed with them.
—IC

84

Move, mind, for it is high damn time,
Up with currents, which have the jump on us.
We worms have spent a measured life, peacetime
In body and home soil, inching thus, thus,
And noticing no changes in the flow,
Or in our very cells.  Until the second
Of our becoming something new, we know
No thing, and stick with what is there, and next,
And next.  If larger force is in the air,
We have no way of making use of it.
And if above us, other wills wreak where
Their limbs are, walking, we see none of it.
Until the morning, stunned, unfrozen, sprung,
We’re drawn to light as moths, and, knowing, flung.

—IC

83

My head is spinning from this past month’s news;
By the week Trump’s being seems to change!
A personality he cannot choose,
Trades “yes” for “no,” a puzzling exchange
That puts our country’s fate in fickle hands.
In fear, I watch the White House move the target,
A plethora of fraught partisan plans.
But can the man himself follow their argot?
Syria, Trumpcare, NATO, and ISIS
Matters of life and death remain capricious.
Each issue leads to crazed internal crisis!
But good or bad, Trump’s certainly ambitious.
Each day brings forth positions unexpected,
And still I don’t know what we have elected.
—HM

82

A bomb blast brightens prospects for Gorsuch;
Dropped on bitter, ungarlanded liberals.
This catastrophic nuke serves to debauch
The Senate, and its check on force imperial.
The marble-columned Capitol’s eroded,
By winds of change and shifting sands beneath,
By filibusters’ busted wills imploded
Till courtly cloture on the Court’s deceased.
With options nuclear, we self-destruct;
Partisans of the enemy rush in.
Our Cold War language has become unstuck,
Applied now to Blue and Red, not Russians.
Had filibuster’s compromise endured,
Our rights might mutually be assured.
—EP, LS

81

The calm before the storm arrives at last?
A Pepsi will not stop what is to come.
Within the first one-hundred days, so fast.
The dominos are tipped, what can be done?
The missiles are not all that disrupts sea;
Our warships suddenly are changing course.
Are we to now submit and just believe
This fast response is just a “show of force?”
Another demonstration, one of power—
The option known as “nuclear” is used.
Gorsuch takes his place, our system soured.
They do not care how these actions are viewed.
Who knows just when the rising tension stops,

—SF