Down in the Canyon (redux)

Oh it’s nine oh two what a time to be blue. 

What a place for heartache and heat. 

You wrap your fingers around godness and restrict, redistrict, reapportion us on the path to hellion days.

Nothing good is coming, nothing fair awaits us.

You say things have been this bad before — remember reading about the 1850’s? 

We be here again — proffered at this late date — and such exorbitant prices!

It’s beyond late—we’re overdue for a reckoning—we’re headed for a wreck. We are functioning wreckage.

We are Wile E Coyote looking up at the anvil headed toward our head.

(Cut. Long overhead shot.)

A puff of smoke below in the canyon.

What I’m Reading:

Kitchens will smell of burned sage and soldiers will abandon their sleeves to the heat of a broken field. The field will cover the dead with daisies and the desert will turn into a single grain of salt. Everyone will be thirsty.

— Rewa Zeinati / “The last day on earth”