avuncular and antediluvian (redux)

my four uncles speak of biblical rains:
¡lo que viene por ahí!

i’m conducting my cornu and sistrum band
we make a heavenly racket
there is dispatch in our notes
alacrity in our fingers
smell of ozone and electricity fill the air

water breaches the open windows

la alondra canta en maltusiano:
los peregrinos estan perdidos
sálvese quien pueda

a call from paducah transits
through tallahassee threw little havana
thru el cayo matahambre
to a mamey stand in cienfuegos
reduced to trecefuegos
in thee apocalyptic downpour

where is the dignity in that, cock robin?
why are you still in caracas?
what is the sense in that, mr platt?
it’s overstuffed in hell these days

i’m outta’ space & i sistrum one last clang

there is no joy in transgression anymore!
it’s our new default setting

one uncle spits & pogos
rises in declension:
if they ain’t no one left after the storm better for us

u know about us

What I’m Reading:

You can doomscroll your way to your doom. The democratic theorists of old longed for an activated citizenry; somehow they failed to recognize how easily citizens could be activated to oppose deliberative democracy.

— Adam Gopnik / “How Alarmed Should We Be If Trump Wins Again?” / The New Yorker