for a

Winter Afternoon

By Patrick Meighan

Copyright © 2018 Patrick Meighan

Published by Unsolicited Press

To the many teachers/poets who have inspired me.


Death everywhere,

Yet so many empty graves.

Not even the snow can fill them.

Dear Anna

The news is not good. The world has grown a bushy mustache. In this epoch, people shiver in long lines uncertain where they lead. I don't think even you could describe it. Grim men in gray suits have replaced soldiers. They carry smartphones. Everyone seeks out his own lies. This morning was so cold when I awoke. Outside my window a pine tree uprooted by the winter hurricane leans toward your Russia, where you left some wine and crumbs of bread. Last night in a dream I spoke with Osip. We waited for you in an old century, but you didn't show. Only the century came, but it soon grew sentimental. Osip said he misses you. A New World Order sends its love.

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