What Rough Beast | Poem for July 27, 2019

J.P. White
The Old Fairytales Are Best

Lots of small cloaked figures at war with tomorrow.
A few giants standing outside the whisper cave.
Too many stray dogs fed on smoke.
Justice bought and sold for an ear of corn.
Casualties in every chapter.
Just a sliver of chance
Our hero will reach the high ridge
Where all things are possible with a feather.
Meanwhile, the king shivers
with speculations and conclusions.
He spends what little time he has left
Lashing out at rivals,
Then he feeds more meat to the lions
To quiet the many scandals and betrayals
That greet him when he wakes.
Everything is broken and crying out.
Most endings are not understood
On the first reading or the second.

J.P. White is the author of the poetry collections The Sleeper at the Party (Defined Providence Press, 2001), The Salt Hour (The University of Illinois Press, 2001), The Pomegranate Tree Speaks from the Dictator’s Garden (Holy Cow Press, 1988), and In Pursuit of Wings (Panache Books, 1978). His essays, articles, fiction, reviews, interviews and poetry have appeared in The Nation, The New Republic, The New York Times Book Review, The Los Angeles Times Magazine, The Gettysburg Review, American Poetry Review, Sewanee Review, Shenandoah, Prairie Schooner, and many other journals and anthologies. He holds a BA from New College (1973), an MA from Colorado State University (1977), and an MFA from Vermont College (1990). He lives on Lake Minnetonka near Minneapolis.

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