Thursday, January 3, 2019

THOUGHTS TOO DARK TO BE QUIET

THOUGHTS TOO DARK TO BE QUIET

Flowers shot out of the vase. Like Cape Kennedy.
Across the living room rug. All those young boys lives.
Splattered across Vietnam. I saw Superman
crawling out of the television set. He was weeping
for America. But America was buried under
a rock. Someplace in Arizona.
All our hope in the nation state. Has begun
to wane. We are returning to castles, princes, and the Holy
Roman empire. We don't need heroes. Or crusades.
We need clean water. And a violin plays
while the planet disappears into space.

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