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.