Poem of the Month
Iconoclast

By Benjamin Hertwig

Published on April 30, 2018

the war is over
and we are still

…………here.

if the good
angel had told
Faustus to go fuck
himself,
the metaphysical
baggage of war
and peace,
heaven and hell
would have
spilled out on the
dark floor of
the study like
a bowl of
peanut shells.
but the angel spoke
of love and the
pitchforked devils
dragged him
down. the war
is over and we
are stil

…………here.

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Rocks at the edge will re-emerge
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Goodbye, Romans said at interments,
Goodbye, and Goodbye. Hired clowns
imitated the dead, mocking
and reminding among the mourners.

I moat myself with winter sea,
I bury myself in woods.