They designed the hydrocarbons.
They exploited free commerce.
They tried, on countless occasions, to sell
each and every tree in the forest and their shadows.
They accuse you of what they perpetrate.
They claim that you are dragging them down as they
drag all of us down.
They are responsible for the superabundance of rain
and snow in the north and the east
and the drought and the heat in the south and the west.
They are the reason why there is the irreversible
melting of the poles.
They will be remembered, if there is anyone left
to remember, for New York and Boston
being underwater, for parts of Florida becoming
just a memory.
They are the powerbrokers, the proponents
of shortsighted edicts
that don’t serve the republic,
since we no longer live in a democracy—
they are the heralds
of the new dark age:
the authoritarians, the solipsists, the libertarians,
they made us do it.
They did it.
They were the ones.
for Zach Moseley
I, too, know of migraines. I seem to come
down with them in spells: stress, overexertion,
certain stark lighting (such as a ceiling appended
with rows of white Fluorescent bulbs that radiate
the glare of the aura of Golgotha). I know
of the nefarious symptoms they precipitate:
the stereoscopic vision, the vertigo, the nausea.
I only am too aware of the pressure under the skull
insidiously moving globally from one lobe
to another, as if one were afflicted by an injection
of mercury sliding uncontrollably beneath the plates
of one’s cranial bones. I also know of the total
surrender one must relinquish to and the patience
one needs to muster. Then the letting go of even
that until its grip eventually dissolves after nearly
total submission: one that often necessitates more
than just a restive touch of quietude amidst the pain
and the strobe lights that make, even when one has
them shut, the eyes water. I offer you my empathy.
Become well again, and you will. Once the onslaught
of the migraine escalates, as only you can—
rest, lay low, and allow the temporal storm to pass.