When the Han Dynasty collapsed an age of trade made way for an age of war. It was even worse in Europe when the Roman Empire collapsed: the culture was utterly destroyed. When Franz-Ferdinand was assassinated it started the end of 400 years of European imperialism. When I traded my bicycle & New York lock for a suit and tie, it was the end of an era too. The idea of 'transition' is too gentle—it implies that with an end there is a beginning. There is doubt embedded in the idea of an 'end of an era.' Obviously the Japanese earthquake, tsunami and nuclear crisis suggest that this era is ending too.
ps: I'm only giving you 3 hours to get a +2 bonus.
Combat Expiration: 12am PST, 3/21/2011
Critique Expiration: 12am PST, 3/23/2011
Bonuses/Penalties: +2 if posted by 3pm PST, 3/18/2011, +1 if posted by 12am PST 3/19/2011, -1 if posted by 6am PST 3/21/2011, -2 if posted by 12pm PST 3/21/2011.
The Rules: http://combatwords.blogspot.com/2010/07/official-rules-for-combatwords-updated.html
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The Next Dispensation
ReplyDeleteBespoke dust, a rib removed
and Adam choked on paradise
as Eve fell from favor; eyes open
Knowledge is death
The will of man confounded
and common speech confused
by an angry god; alas Shinar
Pride cometh
The law was torn in two
like the temple curtain
at the last exhale; my God
It is finished
Two thousand years of grace
covered the lower ground
of man’s last temple; Manhattan
Allah Akbar
A Mayan switch waits patiently,
oblivious to God, good, evil, Allah,
laws, grace and man; the dust calls
(Sorry for the removal, that first one didn't really work out so well. Not that this one is much better, but thought I'd give it another stab.)
ReplyDeleteFin de siècle
My wife could not care less, but I insisted
that no daughter of mine was to be wedded
without there being served at the reception
our precious shark fin soup of celebration.
I said, “Remember, dear, when you and I-”
...she rolled her eyes.
My daughter did the same, adding
“Dad, it doesn’t taste like anything.
Plus they hack the fins off while they’re
still alive. Poor things.”
(Poor things? With all those teeth?)
But I left the office early anyway
and hit the streets of Chinatown, praying
I’d find some not too pricy specimen,
a gray wedge of dried-up cartilage chopped
from a mako or porbeagle shark.
But while they once were found in any shop
in the district, dangling in the windows
wrapped in plastic, now there was not
a single fin to be had. The predators had been
declared endangered, their purchase
made illegal. I was incensed.
How could they prohibit our tradition?
Our memories condemned, our past made sin.
Would they deny Marcel his madeleine?
Reproach the kosher Jew for eating brisket?
I wept with rage. My tongue could still feel
the texture, taste the broth
being spooned into my mouth by my young bride.
I suppose I shall resort to the black market.
I can’t allow my child to be denied.
She will be wed. And I will have my shark.
Bar Mitzvah at the Fairmont Hotel [Combatwords, March 20, 2011]
ReplyDeleteThirteen's too young for adulthood,
Too young for a party, for presents;
Mizvah or not, they were trifles.
Manhood: a drink from the bottle,
A job and a suit and a headache—
Kids and a party like Gatsby.
This is adulthood we chuckled,
And aimed the eclairs at commuters,
Not understanding we reached it.
a city built in flames
ReplyDeletethe heat recorded in years to come
unfounded remorse for a
porter house yet in the oven
I married her to my future
to taste now and know how delicious
it was
If there is no utopia, there is no such thing as dystopia. Where I grew up, among big houses on landscaped hillsides, from time to time someone would dump a body on a dead end road, or alongside a dirt path. One day a shotgun blast rang out across my neighborhood. Rumors spread quickly: One angry guy had come the house of another guy, who brought out his shotgun and fired it in the air to scare the angry guy away. I knew the little sister of the shotgun shooter. The next day in history class I asked her what happened. "I don't want to talk about it," she said. Where is this utopia of which you speak? It's always been dystopia, dystopia then, dystopia now. The earth shakes, the mountains move, the rain falls ... The mud slid down the cliffsides and onto the road in front of me as I drove to work through the canyon this morning. The Highway Patrolman had just arrived, and he didn't seem to know what to do. Put up an orange cone first, then call for the bulldozer, or vice versa? Dystopia today, dystopia every day.
ReplyDelete