I wandered nowhere special in my past, just drifted, looking, lonelyish, half-arsed. Nor in my present is there brilliant light– I drift, doze, dream, enjoy the day and night. What then will help me through a magic door? Sensing the future’s avalanche downroar.
This was published a couple of months ago in Snakeskin. Thanks, George Simmers!
The future like an avalanche is roaring down the sky. If you’ve prepared no hiding place then be prepared to die. You never reason why.
The future like a question mark is scything humankind. If you can see, then handle it – you’ll be cut down if blind. The future doesn’t mind.
The future like a giant wave is heading for the shore. If you can ride that wall-like wave it’s no wall, but a door into forever more.
I was looking for one of my poems that might be appropriate for the aftermath of the 2020 US election, regardless of any of the possible outcomes. This is the best I could find: no matter who wins which election in any country in the next couple of decades, the world is going to be struggling to play catch-up with enormous changes happening in the climate, the sea, cyber warfare, space militarisation, A.I., genetic modifications… Trump, Biden, BoJo, Putin, Xi, they are all corks on an ocean with a hurricane coming.
‘The Future as Event’ was originally published in the much-lamented ‘Rotary Dial’, produced in Toronto by award-winning poets Pino Coluccio and Alexandra Oliver. A delightful monthly of formal verse, it ceased without warning. So it goes.