A Nation Of Foragers Poem by Troy Cochran

A Nation Of Foragers

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I feel the coming on
of a glorious temper.

I see the Capitol dome in flames.

The Monopoly board is two boards now
and sailing across the Thames.

Paris is a shithole
and nurse to a plague.

It's a new world now.
Sweep away

The dead horse piles:
the marriage vows, the marriage miles.

We were very good
as liars.

Now we are caught with our pants
down.

A twist of the knife
and the Senate is dead.

And no one will take your money now.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: marriage,prophecy
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This one came to me in a series of little lightning bolts: very lucid and definite statements, as if I was taking dictation, uttering some kind of prophecy about the decline of my country (USA) . This was in June of 2011. But my marriage of 20 years was also in dissolution.

Perhaps I was divorcing myself from more than I was understanding.

At any rate, it is a poem full of inexplicable tensions.
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