The creeping of the Spirit of the Times

And you crept up

so ominously quiet

Spirit of the Times

that we couldn’t even

feel your presence

but for a draft

we thought was the weather


As you stared


at us from the corner

liquor store

or behind the stall

at the gun fair


Zeitgeist that creeps

sowing rubble

taking shreds

of worn out


and repurposing

them for the kids


so they’ll parade around

in obscene hand me downs

of history

on a raft full of holes


You just sat there

Espirito du tempo

and Marveled how

we couldn’t feel

our callousness



our eyelids

to prevent the scales

falling from our eyes


You did not slouch

toward Bethlehem

Esprit du temps

you merely snickered

at the self-combustion


we were feeding

but refused to feel

until self-deflagration.


Pina Piccolo, November 19, 2023