Where is the Genius?

As Jason declares

he was taken unawares

by his own presence in a meeting,

our surprise, though great, is fleeting.

As Donald announces,

when the senate pronounces

that his own guilt seems incontravertible

he says to his son, a pardon, like dollars, is convertible.

And Donald believes,

in America's greatness,

in an all-male army – of volunteers -

any draft, like a draught, is uncomfortable.

And Donald believes,

that others are wrong

and that he is the one

against whom the dunces are railing.

But the Confederacy is his own,

of witting and unwitting fools,

with an entire race of dupes

believing that they should go

if Donald builds that field

of dreams

where America used to be.

As no-one believes,

in Whitman's leaves:

in a desert of Trumpian drivel,

we wait for our dreams to shrivel.