Paper Plane
Bad news blares from every stamen, every mouth, every passing car and leaf blower. I am coated in dust. It has been too long since I left this spot. How do trees do it? Do they too grow stiff and restless
Bad news blares from every stamen, every mouth, every passing car and leaf blower. I am coated in dust. It has been too long since I left this spot. How do trees do it? Do they too grow stiff and restless
I so want to be optimistic and airy, to write of our generous spirit, to wax poetic about moon landings and beach landings, entrepreneurship, sliced bread, the assembly line, the World Wide Web. It feels un-American
This is where we come together, not before but after: The blood already drained, we refill it; we never lack for blood to give.
It doesn't matter who lit the flame that burned the Reichstag down, only that it burned and so few considered what cremation means to those who long for proper burial.
A relentless South Texas wind poses impossible questions, / flaps the smirking flags until they are upturned, / mists the mown grass with evil's sputum...
When children by gunfire die, when the dreamer and the warden clash, when statues betray the sculptor, we proclaim This is not who we are.
In polite society we hold doors open, Say thanks and please, wear crisp Suits when we drop bombs.