Uncle History has gotten his finger stuck—
Its hard to explain—
He’s like the Dutch boy
But instead of water
He’s holding back a tsunami
Of ghosts…Babi Yar, Palestine
And there’s Uncle’s finger in the air
Blocking the terrible dead
Phom Penh, Dachau
Spirits of ash
He’s holding his station, Uncle History
Guarding a port in pure nothingness
He thinks of how
The glances of faithful children
Are doomed
And move
From face to face
Planet of the Blind 