Sunday, May 10, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
servitude
It’s the age, yes, and it’s the war.
The naming of the enemy, the gift of
destruction, and this man I know, his
son, a soldier, a child, burned alive
inside his metal fortress, and so we
speak of revenge, we speak of God, of
victory, of the need to win this thing
that cannot be won, and the mother
cries in the boy’s room. The women
in the villages are raped and then
murdered. Are gutted, then left for
the dogs. What their flesh tastes like,
i’m told, is freedom.
The naming of the enemy, the gift of
destruction, and this man I know, his
son, a soldier, a child, burned alive
inside his metal fortress, and so we
speak of revenge, we speak of God, of
victory, of the need to win this thing
that cannot be won, and the mother
cries in the boy’s room. The women
in the villages are raped and then
murdered. Are gutted, then left for
the dogs. What their flesh tastes like,
i’m told, is freedom.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
miro, dreaming
with thousands of birds
singing or screaming
fields of mud and snow
10,000,000 miles of road
between susan and maria and
one of them to love and one
of them to fuck
are you anywhere
that can be mapped?
have you been mouthing these
same words for too long now?
look
the plane goes down in flames
accusations are made
and victories declared
the churches
are set on fire
what this accomplishes
isn’t immediately clear
singing or screaming
fields of mud and snow
10,000,000 miles of road
between susan and maria and
one of them to love and one
of them to fuck
are you anywhere
that can be mapped?
have you been mouthing these
same words for too long now?
look
the plane goes down in flames
accusations are made
and victories declared
the churches
are set on fire
what this accomplishes
isn’t immediately clear
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