A poem/photograph about global instability, borrowing heavily from WB Yeats and Wendell Berry
First published in The Study of Light, on Substack, on June 30, 2026
When things fall apart, as they do, remember to hold yourself as one.
The falcon won’t hear the falconer, because the falconer is at the casino.
Put on a clean shirt, and make eye contact with the cashier.
American hegemony will fail like a rusting pail. Brush your teeth, twice a day.
Democracy goes the way of religion, which went the way of the nuclear family. In no particular order, but they held hands as they walked down the hill, into the blood-red swamp. The work wasn’t fun. So now we have the internet, and great commercials, and despots shitting in our highest offices.
No matter that. What matters is that YOU matter. Resist the urge to date a woman half your age.
Say something spiritual at the Thanksgiving table, or at least religious.
Spirituality is humanity’s last large-scale attempt at having meaning in life.
Your brother, once the best-dressed boy at school, now dribbles on his jacket. Your sister believes everything she reads. Dr. Caper says you have cancer. Well of course you have cancer. Open the door for women, and for men.
Your children need to know you haven’t given up.
Love your enemies without malice. Love and malice exclude each other.
When your town is swept away for the third time in a decade by a “century flood,” recycle your beer bottle.
Hold the form, friend. I need you to hold the form.