Skip to content

They’re off doing what they do

and it is pleasant to be here without them

taking up so much room.

They are safely among their own,

in front of their piles of meat, arguing

about cars and their generals,

and, of course, with the TV going all the while.

One reads that the digestive wind passed by cattle

is many times more destructive to the atmosphere

then all of the aerosol cans combined.

How does one measure such a thing?

The world has been coming to an end

for 5,000 years. If not tomorrow,

surely, one day very soon.

Christmas in Chinatown

August Kleinzahler

More from
Poem of the Week

Dzvinia Orlowsky

Wine of Angels

translated from the Ukrainian written by
Natalka Bilotserkivets