Robert Witmer
Tokyo, Japan
“If only we could placate the world’s rage with a drop of poetry or of love . . . .”
— Pablo Neruda
unemployed youth
a roll of the dice
against a brick wall
eyes shut tight
the stone sleeps
in a fist
light bleeding
through stained glass
the rubble still warm
bomb site
nothing but a staircase
beneath the pale stars
war graves
the silence
of forgetful flags
life after death
the hidden truth
maggots
dreams clot
the bloodstream of time
fighting for peace
summit meeting
the overwhelming presence
of nothingness
shouldering responsibility
he listens carefully
to his parrot
cover-up
blaming the system
for the fig leaf
absence of doubt
the poisoned chalice
we swallow with a yawn
online news paper over the past
hope
a spark
on the anvil
prayer flags
different colors
pointing in the same direction