This poem is about our gerontocracy, particularly in Congress, even more so the Senate. I suspect that even in our broader culture the general accrual of power and wealth with “seniority” is the larger dynamic. I fear that in our largest looming existential crisis, climate chaos, the simple fact of being much closer to one’s own death than the average person blunts the saliency and importance of avoiding global calamity. I hope to only grow more radical as long as I get to grow older…
Mortality Creeps
The gerontocracy ruse
The whirled
The dying plan it
As mortality creeps
