Trump Empire, Inc, XC
written for No Kings protests
just a dream, and yet ...
the mountain lion roars
to grazing sheep:
once elected as your King
I'll be vegetarian
the peanut-brained man
behind the Resolute Desk
grins to cameras,
just a little excursion...
oily clouds over Tehran
how much bullshit
can come out of one ass-hole
a veteran’s refrain
cracks and booms through iron bars
at the White House gate
the Capitol fence
shadowed against the sky
in twilight chill
lineups snake at the pumps
and at food banks too
chant after chant
of eggflation, fried truth
scrambled justice ...
a mutt's neck sign: I can poop
a better president
FYI: The title alludes to the famous quote from Thomas Paine's 1776 pamphlet, Common Sense: In America, THE LAW IS KING.
Added: Trump Empire, Inc, XCI
the stacking
of KKK hood, MAGA hat
and ICE cap ...
my beagle takes a dump
it steams the same in the snow
Added: Politics of Distraction, IV:
An Elegy
Silhouetted against twilight, the façade reads:
"The Donald J. Trump and John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts"
across slabs of vein-streaked marble.
will the past be past?
redbud petals curl inward
this spring equinox
FYI: L1 of the haiku alludes to a famous assertion by William Faulkner:
The past is never dead. It's not even past.
This line, from Requiem for a Nun, resonates with historical context: Faulkner’s work was deeply admired by President John F. Kennedy, who, following Faulkner’s death in 1962, led national tributes stating, "Since Henry James, no writer has left behind such a vast and enduring monument to the strength of American literature."
In the haibun, the literary ghost/Faulkner reference in L1 functions as a structural haunting, bridging the weight of prose with the delicacy of haiku.
In literature, ghosts rarely just haunt—they speak. A "literary ghost" is one such spirit: a text, a phrase, or an idea from the past that refuses to stay buried. Unlike a simple allusion, which nods at another work, a literary ghost inhabits a new piece, creating a spectral presence that shapes meaning, mood, and memory.
Where an allusion informs, a literary ghost haunts. It can transform names, places, or words into conduits of history and memory, making the familiar feel strange, uncanny, and alive.
For more about the use of literary ghosts, see To the Lighthouse: Literary Ghost, A "Specific and Powerful Type of Allusion"
