I have three poems in this issue. The crazy one, based on a highly unlikely premise is titled
"Trump Watches 'Turandot' on Late Night TV." To explain the unlikelihood: 'Turandot' is an opera by Puccini set in China. It's about selflessness and, ultimately, love.
I watched it recently -- not exactly on 'late night TV,' but on a screening of a Metropolitan Opera performance of the opera taped live a few years ago. These broadcasts are being screened on the Met's own channel, a new free offering every evening, but just for that one evening. You can, but don't have to, watch them late at night.
The greater unlikelihood has to do with that other proper name that appears in the title of the poem.... But, just suppose, this unlikely intersection came to pass. Here's an excerpt from "Trump Watches 'Turandot' on Late Night TV":
People, the ordinary ones who live on the streets,
gather outside the temples, read the news on the billboards,
are nervous, fearful, they cower
amid presentiments of catastrophe
Even the bureaucrats are fed up, frightened, and desperate to
go home, lock their office doors behind them,
and turn off the spigot
of blood that runs through the capital..."
He's bored. What else is on?
He calls for Conway, or whichever of his stooges
hangs outside his door
to demand that publicly funded TV
screen only biops of famous white males
who succeed and triumph without a single dime of their
father's money.
Everything they touch turns to money!
But, holy moly, who are all these people, look at them!
Dirty, ragged clothes, crowds of them—they make me sick...
To read the rest of the poem, click the link
Trump Watches Turandot My other, shorter poems in this issue, "Saturday Soul,"
and "In a Younger Day," both have to do with memories
of earlier days.
You can find them at the same link.
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