haiku apolitical

by strannikov

no family bonds

no solace when we're sundered

no life in one place.


to say we share blood

means what when its rivers flow

in four directions?


the banks piled with dust

guide each channel in its course,

or's our blood dusty?


our silver moons mute

looking up, looking down, one

silent eye staring.


summer's spent heat swells

autumn shades and scurries leaves

into thirsty dust.


what ties bind today?

it cannot be, it is not

the acres we share:


nor do mute hectares

with their thriving worms twisting

through us shout our ties.


our frenzies subside

our beers spill stale, sour, and hot—

penalties we share.


pocketing problems,

collecting defective coins,

those with no music.


can they approve, our

gods in our wallets? only

when we tell them to.


security codes

clear our gods to cross frontiers

to punish others.

blares, wails, and whistles,

sirens even Ulysses

would plug his ears to.


memories? vapors!

when clouds collect, sight itself

dispelled by more clouds!


our hilltop cities

shrouded in light populate

with unclaimed bodies.


the globe spins along:

coffee beans will grow, whether

harvested or brewed.


our pasts less certain

than foretold: strangling roots

snaked out of Eden.


summon a doctor?

we've been sick for good reason—

find a gravedigger?


(epilogues come first:

they always precede the end,

no matter what's next.)


our motto now is

“e pluribus pluribum”—

“out of many, more”.