Posted on by James Garland

Storm Front

Storm Front

May 19, 2025

So slowly evening clouds drift across the valley

            From the coast,

The surrounding fortress of fir and cedar silhouetted 

            Against shadowy sky in dwindling light,

Clear skies of the afternoon giving way

            To advancing weather,

Yet Castor and Pollux shine through a break, Capella,

            Then Polaris, I watch from the ruins,

The lights gleaming from Route 22,

It looks like America used to look, so quickly devolving,

            So hard to tell,

America has not been quite the same for some time,

            For quite some time,

Since presidents and senators and civic leaders started

            Getting gunned down,

Since global pandemic finally landed on our shores,

            Since oligarchs encouraged racism,

Since more than half of Americans turned to fascism

            For succor, you suckers,

It looks like America, but so clearly it is not,

            As I watch from the ruins,

They’re racing again down on River Road,

            The whine of redlining engines,

And I sense, as I listen to the roar,

Our future grimness,

The prognosis, as they say, is not good,

            For our entitled population,

Drunk on power and answerable to no one,

            Gulping down resources,

Spitting ever more venom and damning consequence,

            Damning the future,

It looks like America, unwilling, uninterested, and in the end

            Unable to respond responsibly, intelligently, to

                        Our profoundly existential crisis.

Clouds and darkness cover the valley,

`A chill spring night,

Calm air still, scented with spring blossom,

            Soon it will rain.

And from the shameless commerce division….

The chapbook “The Cove”, by James Garland, published in 2020, when America was still a free and democratic nation, is available from Amazon.

Posted on by James Garland

The End of the Country Blues



End of the Country Blues

Sitting at a table on the sidewalk outside a coffeehouse downtown. Dylan. “How does it feel to be on your own, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone?” Feels like this:
 
Greenland is melting, the ocean’s a’risin’, 
And it’s all happening faster’n anyone knew,
California’s burning ‘tween mudslides and earthquakes,
Burning summer down with the end of the country blues.

We bow down to China, kiss the ring of Putin,
Bribes from foreign enemies can’t be refused,
That the president’s a traitor there ain’t no disputin’,
And congress sings the chorus to the end of the country blues.

They’ll take whatever they can steal, come hell or high water,
They’ll ruin everything they touch till there’s nothing left to lose,
They’re gonna leave the planet ruined, our disregarded mother,
They’re drivin’ the train to end of the line, to the end of the country blues.

Got a Hummer in the driveway, gets twelve miles to a gallon,
Got a Caddy we tool around in so you know we paid some dues,
If it gets above a hundred, our air is well conditioned,
And with five-thousand tv stations we’ll ignore the end of the country blues.

The world order’s a’changin’, America fading backward,
But oligarchs get that we’re fighting as they turn the screws,
And I’ll stand out on the corner with a raised fist and a placard,
Fighting for democracy, battling the end of the country blues.

So fuck you Mr. President, fuck you and all the rest,
Surrounded yourself with imbeciles like there was no one else to choose,
Nothing like the brightest, nothing like the best,
Shepherding us to Armageddon and the end of the country blues. 

They’ll take whatever they can steal, come hell or high water,
They’ll ruin everything they touch till there’s nothing left to lose,
They’re gonna leave the planet ruined, our disregarded mother,
They’re drivin’ the train to end of the line, to the end of the country blues.

May 15, 2005

Posted on by James Garland

The Last Day of February 2025

The Last Day of February 2025

On the eve of a clash of historic importance, a rupture of world order, and a push ever closer to a precipice, over which promises strife, and war, and plunder, and an overwhelming sense of finality. The end of the Democracy

The last day of February dawns unnaturally 
Warm, radiant skies; we took the bug convertible 
Up through the hills, past spring fields, forests of fir
And barren, mossy oak, glimpses of Cascades, towering 
Hood and Jefferson luminous white, majestic, 
Past overlooks of verdant farmland stretching miles
Across the valley to the shadowy Coastal Range,

The last day of February the President of the 
United States and his vice disgracefully assaulted 
The integrity of an ally, double-crossed the leader 
Of a country at war with Russia, historically our enemy
In the battle of Democracy against Tyranny
For the hearts and minds of the rest of the world,
And the potus and his vice broke our alliances,
Threatened world war, sided with tyranny, and
Dishonored the values of freedom, and history, and peace,
Pushing, pushing ever closer to war. We become the enemy.

Tonight, a glass of red on the balcony looking west,
Still mild, quiet almost, except roaring hotrodders racing 
Down River Road, have been since Covid, nobody stops it.
But I have the stars, Cassiopeia, Pleiades, Venus, stars
Innumerable in western darkness, dimmed only by
The lights along the highway leading to the coast,
Distant traffic passing billboards and businesses
Before becoming rural, farms and wetlands running
Out to the foothills, and I, surrounded in my fortress 
Of fir and cedar, watch from my ruins in the darkness
As we move into a grim, uncertain future,
Awaiting spring. Polaris stares down from the north, unblinking,
But I am without direction, at sea,
In a declining world. Alas.
Posted on by James Garland

Swan Song

Swan Song

Winding down the hill to the lowlands
	Of Ankeny, flanks of the coast range
Whitened, a sky of broken clouds filled 
	With portent, but rain intermittent.

There were a thousand geese at the back 
	Of Pintail Marsh, supple shadows in dim 
 Afternoon light. Ducks lined the shore and
	Traced trails across the pond, startled 
By eagles. In the rushes by the entrance
	To the channel lay one dead swan,
A Tundra Swan, and in the shallows 
	By the tracks, two more.

February 7, 2025
Ankeny National Wildlife Refuge
Posted on by James Garland

Dischord

Dischord

Out with the dog tonight, surprised
	To see a first-quarter moon overhead,
Facing Jupiter, both dodging overcast through
	Barren branches of big-leaf maple
		And sodden fir,

Dripping with winter rain streaming
	From the coast across the valley, blustery, 
Traces of snow, the dog does his business,
	Gives no care for the haloed moon through
		Gauzy skies.

They can’t take that away, barbarous robber barons
	Blindly, greedily orchestrating the demise
Of the Republic, dismantling the Democracy,
	Forging a new oligarchy, of the rich, by the rich,
		For the rich.

Today was a protest in Salem, true Patriots
	By thousands, raising their voices in support
Of our country, virulently opposing the shredding of
	Our Constitution, our Heritage, our dignity, 
		At the sunset of Democracy.

Tonight, the moon disappears, rain begins
	Spattering onto the deck. The dog waits
		At the door. 


February 5, 2025

Posted on by James Garland

Eclipse

Total Eclipse if the Heart (c) Merren Garland
Eclipse

01/07/2025


So this is how history shifts,
	This turgid march to coronation day,
		Like a waking nightmare. 

Please, don’t watch the next, last inauguration, a
	Vast spectacle of pomp and ignorance,
		We have been lied to long enough.

Rue instead the failed Republic, that we
Turned over the keys to the kingdom
		To a sleazy chump, a cabal of cheats 
			And thieves, megalomaniacs and zealots,
	Felons, imbeciles, and kiss-ass millionaires,
Worst that I’ve ever seen. Worst there’s been.

But we are Americans, and it’s worth noting
That in sixty-eight, resistance brought down LBJ,
And in seventy-four, our government
Removed Nixon from office, 
Due in large part to an independent media,
Overturning a 
Landslide election.

Seven days of sanity remain.
Let us build our resistance
To this existential threat.
The planet itself
Waits.

Posted on by James Garland

Out Tonight

Out Tonight

12/20/24

Out tonight, after all is done,
	Mist rises across the valley in
		waves and swirls, veils the
	Lights out along twenty-two, running
			Out through the mountains
		To the coast, westward, sky darkens 
With the promise of cold rain tomorrow, 
	Maybe for days, as winter begins,
I look westward, but don’t see a future, let’s
		Just say I’m not making any
			Long-range plans beyond, say,
	January 20,

This is who they voted for,
	This is what they want.

01/01/2025

Out tonight, the holidays done,
	Drizzle falls through fog that shrouds
		The valley, obscures all lights	
	Beyond the fortress of fir and cedar
			Surrounding this silent house,
We retreat to our routine, but
	Nothing is the same, the overpowering sense
		Of departure, being cast off into whatever
			Nonsensical future lay in store,

This is who they voted for,
	This is what they want,

01/06/2025

Out tonight, the first clear sky in weeks,
	First-quarter moon settling into
		The boughs of deodar cedar and fir,
	Dazzling lights across the valley
		To the foothills, to the silhouettes
			Of mountains against starry horizon,

And it becomes clear tonight, that 
	We move forward to an abyss.
		No miracle occurred today
	To save us, from all the maelstrom ahead,
		That our children and theirs must overcome.
			History is relentless.

He’s going to blow it up.
This is what they want.
This is what they voted for.

Posted on by James Garland

Hang Up Your White Hat, Partner

Hang Up Your White Hat, Partner  
                                                                         11/18/24 

America was a hero when I was a kid,
	Fresh out the gates of the second world war,
		Envy of all other nations,
	In our strength and creativity,
		We built this modern country,
			Reveling in freedom,
Confident of the future.

We were the good guys, leaders of the free world,
	Defenders of liberty, and truth, and democracy,
And our streets were lined with gold,
	And our doors were open to all.
I took great pride in it, this majestic land.
	Throughout my life,
		Even with our troubles, our warring points of view,
			Even when I knew we didn’t get it right,
I thought democracy would hold,
	That our common goals would move us forward,
		Like the promise of a moon shot in a decade,
	A thousand points of light,
Like the great society it took generations
                 of Americans to build.

No, there's no shining city of the top of the hill, not anymore,
	No beacon of light,
You can put your white hats away, pardners,
		Won’t be wearin' em,
			We’re riding with Black Bart now, 
		We’re switching teams.
	We’re on the dark side.
If there’s a glow at the top of the hill
	It’s a bonfire.
America burning its once-proud past,
	And all that’s left
Is smoke, ash.
Torii Burning Monoprint

Torii Burning, Monoprint, (c) Merren Garland

Posted on by James Garland

Donald Trump Does Not Love You

Donald Trump Does Not Love You

Donald Trump does not love you; 
	If you think so you’re horribly wrong.
Donald Trump does not love you.
	Really, hear me out.
Donald Trump does not love you, 
	Unless- maybe you’re super-rich, that will work. 
                        Or an oil man, we’re gonna drill, drill, drill.
        Or a despot, 
                        (he has a thing for the strongmen, the tyrants),
                                    Or Russian, North Korean, 
                       An enemy of the State. 
You know- Partners. Our new allies.

Donald Trump does not love you.
	He won’t be dropping over, ever,
					     -Would you want him to?
He won’t park it on the sectional for a cold one,
	Talk of your concerns, worries, struggles. Talk about you. Yours.
                     Not gonna happen.
                                             -Would he sneer,
        Mock your little house, your kids, your failures.
                                             -Would you see the disdain in his shifty glare,
	                  Up so close, if you pay attention. If you pay attention, you know.
Donald Trump does not love you. 
 	
Donald Trump does not love you, 
	Donald Trump will never tell you the truth,
						-How important is the truth?
Donald Trump will never give you facts,
						-Doesn’t care much for facts; too much like truth.
	He’ll tell you to drink bleach,
He’ll tell you that there are beautiful neo-nazis,
	                                         He’ll tell you what you want to hear, 
                            Or what he thinks you want to hear.
	If you want to hate minorities, he’ll tell you that’s okay,
If you want to smash your way into Congress,
                        Wrapped in the Confederate flag,
		Screaming threats to members of government 
                                                While defiling their offices,
                And killing Capitol police, 
He’ll call you a patriot. 
	If you choose to ignore that the planet is on fire
                And the sea is full of plastic 
                                               And the coastlines are sinking, 
	He’ll tell you to ignore it, not a problem. A hoax.
Donald Trump will lie to you, will lie to everyone.
	Donald Trump does not love you.
.
In the news the other day I saw that Elon Musk is going to build
	A habitat for humans on Mars, a twenty-year plan.
                                             You won’t be invited, I’m afraid. 
        Not nearly wealthy enough, I’m afraid.
Unless you’re an oil man, or an oligarch, or a despot.

Donald Trump does not love you. 
	He will leave you here on this dying sphere,
                                            And your children and their children, 
        After they’ve plundered the planet for all they can take,
                                           (We’re gonna drill, drill, drill)
	               And they’ll tell you it’s sustainable, 
This exceptional way we American’s live, 
	              That it’s all a hoax, 
        And the controls hobbling industry,
                                           Like that pesky clean air act,  
        All those environmental regulations
Need to be torn asunder,
        Removed entirely, in the name of profit, 
	                                  And he’ll tell you the killing heat and mammoth storms,
        And millions of acres succumbing to wildfire,
                                          Are natural occurrences, routine cycles of weather,
                     And keep your monster trucks and dreadnought utility vehicles,
	Because we’re Americas, exceptional, but make no mistake,
Donald Trump does not love you.

Donald Trump does not love you.
	He will say that he loves you, 
But you know way down he does not.

Donald Trump will do whatever it takes,
                                          As the beard for a cabal of greed, to become our new King,
	A despot himself, to freely accumulate wealth and power,
                                         And weasel himself from his legal imbroglios,
		Scot free, Scotus free, free to dismantle
                                         This fragile democracy. 
                He’s already promised
To take away your vote, your voice, 
                                         Our forebear’s pride, 
                The foundation established
			                 To end tyranny,
Because Donald Trump does not love you,
		But Donald Trump yearns to be your tyrant, 

And if he takes office 
	Will he let you keep your guns,
		In case you disagree, 
(been shot at once,
	He won’t risk it again),

			In the indeterminable future,
With the seas rising
	And the air burning
		On a lost planet.

Donald Trump does not love you,
	Donald Trump will not love you,
		Just ask Melania.




07/16/2024