Kendra Steiner Editions (Bill Shute)

January 18, 2009

Hours Past Sunset (in honor of Obama’s inauguration)

Filed under: Uncategorized — kendrasteinereditions @ 4:56 pm

In the immortal words of Joe Dallesandro, “I work cheap, but I don’t give it away.”  However, I’m going to violate that policy once to post the final poem from my new chapbook HOURS PAST SUNSET since it deals with Barack Obama and probably captures the feelings of a lot of us on the left who welcome a Democrat in office but are much closer ideologically to a Nader or a Camejo. We’ve heard the progressive rhetoric before from those who want our vote but have gone on to pursue the same corporate politics once in office, though perhaps with a more human face. I wish Senator Obama well, probably the first well-intentioned president since Jimmy Carter. After the dismantling of the New Deal under Reagan and Clinton, and then the bankrupting of the nation and the trashing of our image internationally by Bush Junior (old-school Country Club Republicans like his Dad seem almost benign by comparison!), Obama will be a welcome relief. But his having sold out to the large drug companies long ago and his wanting to continue the occupation of sovereign foreign nations and his offering of weak positions on issues such as GLBT equality do not really inspire confidence. Still, he’s on our team until he proves otherwise, and I wish him well.  It’s now hours past sunset…





      Hope, Incorporated

          once  rang  my doorbell

               (while it still worked)

                    in  the  late  afternoon,

                        grins and homilies  and  sleight-of-hand

                             filled the doorway


(like tainted Little Debbie peanut-butter cakes

lined up on a card table       after the Girl Scout meeting)


                            from an Arkansas  fertilizer salesman  

                                    looking for head   and for swag


                                promises to sand down

                                          the razored edges of  Babylon


                                                            burned  again





       hours past sunset                        we  are

              miles down the road and without a handbasket    


      Hope’s new spokesperson

          (and one-time president of the Harvard Law Review)

                         knocks     and    waits         

                  and   I   wonder


         should   I   answer



                                       tonight will not swing


                                                      but         perhaps

                                                            it   will             move

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