Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2018  Vol. 17 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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End Times

We say it where I’m from,
to mean: what’s fucked up is by design,

God gives
signs, pay

attention to numerology.
Five-hundred-year hurricanes

so often now birds
have learned to thrive

by flying in the eye
of storms and in the face

of such low,
low Black Friday

rollback prices
like these, Lord

it must be
a sign of the end of times.

Curses are breaking;
geniuses are living

past 27; they have stickers on avocados
now that let you know when they’re ripe.

It means the Cubs have won
the pennant.

We’re running low on fuel
at the pump but thank God

a triceratops was here
and now my champagne

’96 Nissan Maxima has gasoline
for Taco Tuesday.

A total solar eclipse
is only visible from Earth.

This is a miracle. There are fountains
now that give you every kind of soda.

Excess carbon emissions
will ruin a good sweet tea,

like too much sugar.
It means you can still light

faucet taps of homes on fire
in parts of Kentucky.  

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