The Cord
A life I've spent before screens of fury
Among pillars of sound and planes of light
Shrinking below a lowering overcast sky
Where their vaporous residue collects
To blot out a forgotten sun fading
Like a clot of coagulating blood
In this morass of chaos and color
He waits there, beyond our world of artifice
He mocks our shallow fascination
And our fearful, endless diversions
He waits, eternal, and reflects that
In fleeing death we abandon life
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Power working behind the scenes used to be so much more subtle. The pancake make-up was barely lifted from the president's increasingly ...
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