Spray-tanned figurehead salts and loads fry orders tends McDonald’s drive-thru in a ridiculous ratings draw. We can’t help but watch the Doomsday Clock tick closer to midnight tick, climate catastrophe tick, artificial annihilation tick, nuclear neutralization tick, complete stillness. It seems silly to elect a mythic media mogul so prude we hopelessly tune in to … Continue reading 47th President Poem: Trump Country, by Skyler Lambert