An Appointment Kept in a Private Sea

We mostly talked about Hilltop at Thursday Night Pints which means it won't be talked about here. POTUS 12 did come up briefly: I was not chided as a mittenabler (copyright!) when I took my turn cursing motherfucking Obama. I asked, if the elite know there's no there there, that shit times are coming, the only thing that matters is expanding the police state, and Obama's done his job magnificently, it could not have gone better, and he will be rewarded with a second term. Got me a pint. Sure wish I could poem the Hilltop discussion here though.

We'll be on that section of I-68 about three hours after I've plunged publish on this post, taking Planet back to Bamgier, so travelogue next two, three days. Earthgirl got a new camera for her birthday yesterday, I need some new paintings to post here. No time to read last night, this morning, so no links today. New Ivy?





APOCALYPSE SOLILOQUY

Scott Hightower

I hope my death is not stolen from me
by a fiery blast of Fahrenheit or Celsius      
or another calculatable accuracy.                       

I will gladly relinquish all the pleasures of daily 
bread, the pride and dreams of art—even pulse;
but I hope my death will not be taken from me.

Actually, it is a modest policy;
little there to discuss as to solace
or in the way of privacy.

A valued moment of self-possession? Might it be
something to embrace more than to expulse?
I hope my death will not be pried from me.

My end is not to be just a cause in a public sea 
of scientists teaming against a disease,
a private point in a welter of piracy.

After all, won't it fundamentally and rightly 
be mine and no one else's? I hope my death is 
not taken from me; better, it be 
an appointment kept in a private sea.