At the Start of the End of the World Some prayed for it to happen. At last it’s here. Lies create more lies. There are daily examples. Some are desperate lies. You want to try to save what can’t be saved. Some are just damned. Think Germany in the ‘30s lies culled by Goebbels’ poetic hand into a fist of belief. The Thousand Year Reich end red embers in twelve. Think of a tired heart still wanting what it shouldn’t have, wanting it so badly the crowded streets seethe with it. Think of an entire country stepping into that street caught up in the desire for what will destroy it. You don’t see the traffic coming a going. You can’t hear what’s next.
What’s Wrong with This Movie This movie has no backers. This movie has no production crew. The script of this movie is bare bones and the story--whether sci fi or doc-- ridiculous. There is no continuity. No narrative arc. No fixer can fix it. It is what it is. PR is impossible for this movie. The director is a true unknown. This movie has no trailers just flashbacks.. This movie has no release date. This move will end to no applause but quiet approval of the absence of the disorder that characterized it. This movie won’t be playing near you. This movie goes with you. everywhere you go.
Canticle for the Lost We meet in the territory of Losses for they are abundant. The visible universe cannot contain them nor infrared eyes which in our wisdom we have placed in the void to see through the void beyond the carapace of daily desires that fade to dream or nightmare. So we need, O Lord, to shake our grief the way you shake stars like a blanket tossed to the floor by a wild sleeper.
The Difficulty The difficulty in writing this is how words twist what you think you feel or what you feel instead of thinking—it works both ways—into something very different and difference is always difficult, isn’t it? Opposites attract, they say, and so often it proves true for a time. When that time comes you’re left tracing shadows of yourself in an empty room.
Halo Does the circular flame of your life equal the cold that extinguishes it or does it burn through the universe like a halo of new stars?
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Stan Sanvel Rubin has published poems in numerous US journals as well as Canada, Ireland, and China and several anthologies. Four full-length collections include There. Here. (Lost Horse Press) and Hidden Sequel (Barrow Street Poetry Book Prize). Born in Philadelphia, he lives on the north Olympic Peninsula.
