"How to Write a Haček" (Pessoa XXIII.)

The desert crossing, day by burning day,
your eyes fixed on some intel horizon;
who are we kidding? Doors made breakaway,
on miniature wings, glist'ning in the sun.
Sourdough bread, splintering. Trapped on standby
oTcTpaHeHie fruit juicy red quintessence

That is not dead which can eternal lie

Jesuit rugby dead opossum presence
dead the jade and dead the active evil
closer to the light

When your country's going to the devil

But i wanted to get this right:
over the torn-up streets i roll, to get
this right, if i can nothing else effect.


Before it's all over and done with, i want to hear this said just once on TV: that our systems had safeguards against everything, except leaders who were venal enough to destroy it for short-term gain, and a populace stupid enough to want to hand it over to them.