Familiar whispers

on darkened streets

or even under street lamps

casting long shadows

as if trying to trick us

into thinking it daylight.

Sometimes the whispers commune

and grow

many voices sound louder

than one

but not always wiser.

 

Campaigns muster

candidates bluster.

 

When they get to the point where

they ridicule the erudite

the noise begins to pierce

and when they begin to deny the scientific

record

they lose me

to the sound of my own voice

within

a small steady current

low and true

summoned from thousands of

yellowing pages

of ideas

of dreams

of fitful nights with pen in hand

of books to save

from burning.

 

–Danny Grosso