The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

"If only you could stay—'til the end of the day—
If only you could work—a couple hours more—

If only you could get—into this hefty debt—
If only you could see—with blighted, mortal eyes—

The order we have wrought—simply comprehended—
The value of creation left undone—you fool!"

Thus spake the madman to the passerby
Who do not see him in their homeward blitz.

The air is cool; on greying wind, a headline flits,
THE HORSE IS DEAD. THE RACE IS ENDED.