Wednesday, February 19, 2025

The Quiet of Tombstones By Catfish McDaris


Reclining against a warrior’s headstone, 

listening to a chevron of geese overhead 

watching the pewter dawn sun peer forth 


There’s no happiness at the end of a rifle 

or in a bottle or magic potion, sitting among 

my dead brothers, I know there’s no such 


Thing as revolution, it’s just another word 

meaning leapfrog of the rich, so they can 

buy a bit of power with the blood of the poor 

 

The honking dies and fog vanishes, money 

equals greed, possessions turn into traitors,  

no one can stop time or conquer the rain. 


 


 
(photo is from Alamos, Sonora Mexico)  
 

Catfish McDaris was born on Route 66 in Albuquerque, NM in 1953. He's a retired bricklayer, artillery soldier, and postal worker. He lives 4 miles from Lake Michigan, near Milwaukee. His 25 years of writing archives are in Marquette University, and he has a Wikipedia Page. He likes to do interviews.  
 

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