not really a rant

I haven't the energy, or the time. This is more a collection of disjointed thoughts.

Tuesday morning I voted, for all the good it did me. Wednesday afternoon I marched in an anarchist protest (that's right I said ANARCHIST you Big Brother government narcs). We walked through the cold and rain beating drums and waving signs and generally pissing off the locals, and now my lovely new hat smells like wet Alpaca. I think there I accomplished more than my mere vote ever could. I know I make cracks about moving to Canada, and sometimes they're more sincere than sarcastic, but really this election has only radicalized me further. I don't want to run away; I'm spoiling for a fight. There's really nowhere I could run to anyway; like Woolf says, as a woman I have no country; as a queer there's nowhere I am safe. More and more I feel like Thomas Paine, "My country is the world and my religion is to do good." The only things I believe in, any more, are nature and poetry. Forgive me if I trot out that oft-quoted bit of William Carlos Williams

You will not find it there but in
despised poems.
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
Hear me out
for I too am concerned
and every man
who wants to die at peace in his bed
besides.

but it's the only truth I've got at the moment. I'm more composed today, but all that rage you find in the Queer Nation tract is still there, just below the surface. I'll be putting it to good use in the next four years.

In addition to Choriamb, I've finally found a decent "poem-a-day" site.