Comments about Gerald Giemzo
The ancients might say that the stars are misaligned,
Or the bloody entrails of the sacrificial bird are putrid;
Signs that the future harbored a coming evil.
But such portents are too overt for me;
Rather, my clues are more subtle:
A disharmony in the hum of the planets as they inexorably follow their circuits around the sun,
A bulge, warp, bubble, ripple in the orderly procession of the routine.
These slight suggestions are hints that all is not well with the world, a sense of coming doom;
And life will soon unfold with a bleak harshness.
Breathlessly I wait ...