so we must accept the wind of change,
but this wind is carrying a knife,
sharp as a tabloid hack,
cutting the back out of Spring,
shredding the spin of yesterday’s news
to a pap of filth and litter.
Who can tolerate its sleazy gust,
whipping up grist for trope and troll.
Get them out! Take back control!
We hoped for a fresh breeze
to broadcast seeds, uphold
the wings of passerines,
fan small sparks into glowing flames.
Who can accept a wind that slams
doors, rips up roots, huffs
on everything that stands in its way?
This is more than bluff Boreas,
ruffling hair and feathers,
more than hot air,
and buffeting buffoonery,
this wind is an enemy,
a stranger that knocks you down,
kicks dirt in a face that doesn’t fit,
whistles as it rips through
arcades, arches, tearing up
parcels of flesh and bone,
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