Writing in 2018 I must say that watching TV news commentary is much different than when the following poem was written in the 1980’s.  What the poem is driving at is the fact that each person forms a unique impression of the history of their own time.  It is a process that is universal throughout all of human existence but our keyhole to view the universe has expanded incredibly with modern media.  The news analysts attempt to put current events into context, though today there is a public tug of war over the substance of fact that was not very apparent in the 1980’s.  In those days, uniformity of commentary was very characteristic.  This fostered a more cohesive collective understanding of what constituted the present.   Regardless, reality is what it is.  The true story is the true story.  We are challenged to use our own judgement, to sift through all of our experience in order to evaluate what is true.   Our own final news report, our rendering of the facts, our unique culmination of a lifetime of observation, that is what is scattered with our dust.  For we are the living reservoir of our own unique perception of life.





( Circa 1986 )



Troubadours of the flat screen

Augurs of the signs

Conductors of the current

Dissectors of the times


They are minstrels of the moment

Criers of the town

Rendering the beast of fact

‘Til the meal is taken down


Yet the echoes of our own perceptions

Resist their slow demise

And the fading ghosts of memory

Arise in the eyes of our minds


Arise in the eyes of your mind

That which is and that which must

Refracted through your prism

To be scattered with your dust