AMERICA MOUTH
I
What else is there to talk about
or write down in sad attempts
or listen to, see, hear, feel about except for
(?!!
That’s 9/11 in capitols
Now the capitol is going to be full
of speeches and promises and
hopes desire dreary mouth rides that in the end say:
KILL OR BE KILLED
There are books about books about THE DAY
(also in capitols)
and as we watch non-stop coverage of
Pulitzer hopefuls dissecting and dictafying
every word ever spoken about (?!!, somewhere
in a dark room or a light
room with coffee and three ring notices, a man or a woman
will slice the throats of innocents in strange clothing
War on terror and its -ism
Kill all the non-peaceful
Destroy destruction
Beat the beaters
Good words to hide the blood.
II
Why does everyone hate us?
Maybe it is because we throw food away.
Maybe it is because their god is a different color or sex.
Maybe it is because they are all too hot or too cold.
Maybe they are all insane, every last one of them.
Maybe it is the way of man. Never peaceful.
Maybe it is money like school yard bullies with expensive shoes.
Maybe it is the Earth correcting itself. Ultimate Darwin.
Maybe it is just the means.
III
Poppies
Plucked up from sweet stems,
Ripe sunset blooms smell of earth
Which will soak in crimson.
Haiku’s will not work today.
Form cannot contain the formless.
Molding lines and speech beats into
row and verse and scheme will not serve.
Indeed, free flowing juice from too many mouths.
like drunken subway’s chatter, everything is becoming
A mush.
A mash.
Compost for the growing of Poppies.
Some for selling. Some for drifting. Some for killing.
This soaked loam settles.
Poppies rise.
IV
My father built upon those towers.
Eating lunch, sometimes men would plummet
and after, hear that bell. Time for plot and pantry.
We create.
We create again
We destroy.
We destroy again.
V
What the economy needs now is a good war
to kick start it in the pants.
Two birds with one very big stone.
Die you heathen fucks.
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