Julie’s Reviews > Collected Poems > Status Update

The time of manifest destiny is over, the time of grief has come.

The last line of a 3-page poem titled Anger Against Children

Such unsparing words, and yet we let them pass as if nothing were expected of us.

When William Stafford Died.

A poem to be read in its entirety.

From Waiting For The Stars

One star stands alone in the western darkness;
Arcturus. Caught in their love, the Arabs called it
The Keeper of Heaven. I think
It was in the womb that I received
The thirst for the dark heavens.

Those great sweeps of snow that stop suddenly six feet from the house.
Thoughts that go so far.
The boy gets out of high school and reads no more books;
The son stops calling home.
The mother puts down her rolling pin and makes no more bread.
And the wife looks at her husband one night at a party, and loves him no more.
The energy leaves the wine, and the minister falls leaving the church.
It will not come closer.

Night of first snow.
I stand, my back against a board fence.
The fir trees are black at the trunk, white out on the edges.
The earth balances all around my feet.

I've stood in moments such as these in my life and this sends me spiralling back to all those moments. What magic there is in that first snow, in a dark country night. The world a blanket of white, and you, the centre of the universe.

He declares the Peasants' War was fomented by Italians from the North
And the attorney general lies about the time the sun sets.


Once again, history walks in rhyme. Not hard to believe this was 1973. ... which just as easily have rhymed in 2026?

He has private information about which city is the capital of Wyoming,
He lies next about the birthplace of Attila the Hun
Then about the composition of amniotic fluid.

He insists that Luther was never a German
And only the Protestants sold indulgences.
He declares that Pope Leo X wanted to reform the Church, but the liberal elements prevented him.

Now the Chief Executive enters, and the press conference begins.
First the President lies about the date the Appalachian Mountains rose.
Then he lies about the population of Chicago,
Then the weight of the adult eagle, and the acreage of the Everglades,
Next he lies about the number of fish taken every year in the Arctic

The bombers spread out, temperature steady
A Negro's ear sleeping in an automobile tire
Pieces of timber float by saying nothing

Bishops rush about crying, There is no war
And bombs fall
Leaving a dust on the beach trees

One leg walks down the road and leaves
The other behind, the eyes part
And fly off in opposite directions

Filaments of death grow out.
The sheriff cuts off his black legs
And nails them to a tree.

In the poem, Those Being Eaten By America ....

The cry of those being eaten by America,
Others pale and soft being stored for later eating

...

That is why these poems are so sad
The long-dead running over the fields,

The mass sinking down
The light in children's faces fading at six or seven

The world will soon break up into small colonies of the saved.

Written 1967-ish. Really? And not 2026?