Thursday, December 28, 2006

excerpt from Crossing the Ameri-Con

You were a stratagem in the fervor of rats

Humming the psalms that sparked the napalm nation

If every generation has a cross covered alibi lying across its losses

A bronzed virgin cockroach mother

Then what for the tributaries and consanguinities that bind us

My bloodied Mother howls back at her tormentors

Peak Oil came did you see it?

The stratosphere skin that once kept the starlight safe

Now bleeds sunlight while glaciers crowd the water

There was a place for love in this life just where now does it get shepherded

Between the Sunday crossword puzzle and the homophobic advice columnist

There is too little room left for light in the bright white heat

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