One Big Dramatic Curve

In the wake of fascism came fascism.
At either end of a line
each extreme found themselves
with the same problem
and the same solution

Some kept running
from the other side and
from the side they were,
without ever retracing the other's steps,
to arrive at either end
of the same circle turned on its side,

exchanging polarities like a light swinging
between red and blue

No matter how far they run
from the cross
the circle just gets bigger
like the far ends of the universe
running away from a discovery.

Kids educated on opinions,
history and subjectivity,
gave up on which way was right.
Wide-eyed at the vortex,
leaving only to escape
the current channel

only imagine the view
from outside, where Sasquatch hides.
The edge will be running away
from us for the rest of our lives.

Her Story

Smug men, high on horses,
beautiful, set in stone.
Holding peace like they're the owner.
Wine is blood. Bread is bone.

A bread loaf dropped into the rocks,
a crumb into his mother's cleavage.
Hunger leads a man to greed.
Greed and land-owning suffrage.

She erodes under his nose,
lands upon an endless shore.
Bread and bone will decompose.
She reforms just like before.

Men arrive in their ships,
clipity clop onto the rocks.
Nautical star gazers who got their wish
were carriers of chickenpox.

Be the elders your kids could be,
but keep in mind this principle:
You're much younger than she is.
Our history is Her silent sience.