David Thornbrugh is a Ring of Fire poet based in Seattle, Washington, USA. In his poetry, he strives to make sense of existence, and to lessen some of the gloom he feels as the natural world fades further and further into the past and the future looks less and less viable. He finds life without humor not worth the effort, and the idea of being a poet in America pretty funny.
The New Dispensation
White feathers from the chickens
I plucked for lunch drift the kitchen floor:
I am back to the basics, chopping wood
for fuel from the local park,
trapping raccoons for the fur,
home growing my own high.
We pee in pots for the sulphur
to make our own gunpowder.
For electricity, we generate our own
by spinning like dervishes, like politicians,
rub the static from the air by stroking stray cats.
Winter is coming on, and all good citizens
need to be prepared.
