Have we come so far
and emerged nowhere
—A.I. tracking faces,
movies on demand—
after stories of creation
told around small fires,
starry shapes unnamed
in the night sky.
* * *
How we’ve struggled
to find comfort,
thatching our homes
with ritual and light.
We huddle together
against the beating hours,
our chronic cacophony
a search for music.
Ken Victor has earned a living teaching writing in a NY State maximum security prison, pruning trees in Philadelphia, guiding canoe trips in Ontario, lifeguarding at New England lakes, developing leaders in everywhere corporations, publishing poems by fortuitous alignments. Money wasn’t the point, except in a few instances that he’s still processing. He lives among trees and rolling hills in Quebec and likes his neighbours. His collection, We Were Like Everyone Else, came out in 2019 from Cormorant Books.
