There's this great prose poem called "Christopher Robin" by Milosz in his book, Roadside Dog.
It begins with Pooh talking, and whenever I read the opening of the poem, I think of George Bush.
"I must think suddenly of matters too difficult for a bear of little brain. I have never asked myself what lies beyond the place where we live, I and Rabbit, Piglet and Eeyore, with our friend, Christopher Robin. That is, we continued to live here, and nothing changed, and I just ate my little something."
And a bit later:
"Owl says that immediately behind our garden Time begins, and that it is an awfully deep well. If you fall in it, you go down and down, very quickly, and no one knows what happens to you next."
Okay, I admit the poem is way too sweet and magical to link it to politics, and that's not the actual context of the piece. And George doesn't have any innocence to him. But he is of little brain, or no brain at all. And we are falling and falling . . .