The Midwest Rebuilds, and Putin is Elected.

I missed a day. Two to make up.

The suffering in the Midwest continues, but is overshadowed by the ascension of Vlad Putin to the presidency of Russia.


I think I live in interesting times.
The ballots have been cast in Russia. He,
The codifier, former KGB,
Is president. Of all the many crimes
Committed on the innocent by those
With power, Putin has himself a few:
The theater in Moscow, or the slew
Of sailors in the Kursk, or, I suppose,
The journalist miss Anna. I digress,
However, and irrelevantly so,
If I would here ignore the Russian polls.
He’s far more popular than the cajoles
And daily cries of “dictator” that flow
From all the western presses. Be advised
That Russia loves the man we’ve never prized.

And for the Midwest:

The hardest part of suffering is this:
It carries on when all have gone away.
The headlines will abandon you, the day
Returning now when something else amiss
About the universe has caught the eye
Of all the weary watching. There, alone,
Is suffering the greatest, the unknown
And dullish days, or years, after the cry
Of pain and terror, beating down the heart.
You’ll fight to keep your paddle up a creek,
But we’ll forget about it in a week.
Together for a time, and then apart:
How pitiless the news is. Carry on.
I hope that all the Angels haven’t gone.