7.12.2010

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I could light a candle from this lightning,
put out the darkness with a prerequisite.

Few fingers like fishes; this isn't India--
crime-rates, angry nets in oceans,
tender glop rises from the present protesting seas,
gulps swallowed in the circus act of politics.

Who is the boss's boss's boss's boss's boss?

A piece of news that shakes the global milieu,
supervened, bruises thoughts,
mass consciousness like an old jalopy.

Our fortune is bare & before sunrise
a thirsty, hunger-ridden congregation gathers
near Egnatia Hwy in Greece to watch a frog exodus.

"Scientists are perplexed at the bizarre phenomenon."

Rivers run as dry as a dragon's throat
or a magnetized fiancee. Let's change directions.

Should a machine give a resounding goodbye?
Should Jupiter apologize for losing a ring?
like a marriage that flames to an end
that always had a flaccid grip,
like waving to someone that is on horseback
and they wave back with both hands,
then go crashing down like a thundering fib.

Taxed of irresolutions, language borrowing
images from media, planted into the brain
like a fruitless fashion, reflections to disengage
the legs. America, standing in her own alien waters.

The frangible Statue of Liberty becomes a slot machine--
hollowness now embedded with thick boughs of tokens.