by Christopher DeGroot (November 2018)
Bride of the Wind, Oskar Kokoschka, 1913
Of Need We Arose
Breakfast is dirt,
lunch is sweat,
and at dusk we go home.
Of need we arose.
We have cloths,
we scrub hard,
but they do not reach the bones.
Of need we arose.
Change Soon
Late June in the awful year,
old blossom of pain and hate.
Change soon. Everywhere
is rotten, you take and wait.
Old blossom of pain and hate:
Praise doom now you bear
unfathomed the day’s weight.
Change soon. Everywhere
is rotten, you take and wait.
Dusk
Dusk is the hour
and memory teeming
when our spines arch
to begin seeing.
We can devour
where there is grieving
and our spines arch.
Flows with bleeding
a new off scour,
an end of seething:
our spines arch
for this leaving.
Our Purpose
Our purpose is an essence
that rewards us with its presence.
How can we know this essence,
unless we seek a blanket
with which to cover vision
from truth’s blinding glare?
We cannot face the winner
of the paradox we bear.
We Marveled
The end of draping loomed;
we spoke autumnal vows:
love, hope, help…and more weighted nows.
They said he’d return soon;
We marveled, “They believe.”
I saw and said to you,
“I understand the need,
But can theirs be the truth?”
______________________________
Christopher DeGroot is a columnist at Taki’s Magazine and Frontpage Magazine and senior contributing editor of New English Review. Besides these venues, his writing has appeared in The American Spectator, The Imaginative Conservative, The Daily Caller, American Thinker, Jacobite Magazine, The Unz Review, and Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts. Follow him at @CEGrotius.
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