A Trump Zealot Finds Phenomenology

Those endless questions pull the bobby pin out of reality; 
the willies,  blues, bad infinity

even the “shining truth” of politics —
nothing but a question

all stars in our flag become fifty questions
all past and futures held down by a moment.

Even Burnitdown— a dyed-in-the-wool Trumpie — 
has learned to reorient by following sensation.  
Her moment of doubt as recounted to WaPo:

I know I have this screw in my hand —
it’s poking my finger and hurts.
I am really here –
I’m pinching the skin on my forearm.
I know that’s a tree — 
it’s shading my yard.
Or at least it’s called a tree 
because that’s what I was told…

If vertigo is the only shared notion
this mourning/morning in America —
I’ll take it. 

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