Escapism

Believe it or not, I have been spending my time hiding from politics as much as possible because the never-ending grind of bad news from the world weighs on me too much.

I’ve tried to spend more time reading poetry and soaking up the beauty. There’s a book -- Poems of the American West -- that I had been avoiding because I figured it wouldn’t amount to any more than Woody Guthrie songs and Indian chants. Well, it’s a little more expansive than that. I found a devastating group of poems from a poet named Joe Bolton that have stayed with me for weeks now. Here’s one:

The Lights at Newport Beach
If there were time for everything
(And there is); if that phosphorescent light
Stunning the Pacific meant anything
(And it does); if all this world of worlds might
Become something more than a museum for something
We have lost (and it will) … but not tonight.
Tonight, love, Newport Beach is simply on fire,
The buildings blazing up under the sky,
The streets running headlong into the sea.
If we were not more than the sum of our desire
(But we’re not); if there were a language I
Could find to get beyond the opacity
Of zero…. But I’m tired of words and all we turn
Away from. I just want to watch it burn.