fading out

It's black
outside the door
and the lightbulb
is dimming
shadows are
reaching out
and the chairs
are all
sitting empty
It wont
be long now

Civil Wars

Watching the men, the boys

catching the streetcars to the Front,

antique rifles over their shoulders

and half a dozen cartridges in a pocket

cigarettes all, propped behind an ear

Believers all, idealists all

fools all, halfway to dead already

the harvest is taken and lost,

and the causa is lost with it

And reading about the end

of the rule of law, of the ruler

daring them to do something

about it.

And what the hell is there but

idealism

why live and die detached and

cynical

There’s a storm on the edge

of tomorrow, blowing hard

and it’s getting on towards

time to stand,

time to lie

Does the streetcar run nearby?