XXIX.

America, you have given me your skeleton
key: I look like a president, and the bully
who wins. My body craves for what is right
I am blinded by greenbacks and green light.

Yet as long as you struggle for me,
my words have nothing to which to refer,
my mouth seals itself: there is nothing
to say at your party line-- observations

without premises; preferences without choices.
The concert is so loud, those standing
in the choir don’t realize they’re not,

and have never been, singing. America, I cherish
my discords with you, for they will be what I breath
when I bury your castes along with my greed.

XXX.

In the caves at Niaux, France, granite
bison stampede over cavernous plains
toward men who knick their igneous hides
with spears, shard their sides with stone.

In Dusseldorf, a man rushes to save
the damsel strapped to a movie screen’s
steel tracks. He rips the nylon, angering
the audience unjostled by the wail.

And here, foreign soldiers are put in one to three
glass jars of blood and ether. The closer
to reality they look, the less real they are.

In night vision, no one dies outside
the frame: Death occurs at conception. To
watch while blinkless is to not watch at all.


XXXI.

Republican National Convention. 2004

Wide Shot, Woman in Kitchen, Working
Over White Counters. Child runs in,
grabs green grapes, darts through door.
Announcer (V/O): In your home’s heart,

there has been a microscopic invasion,
a network of bacteria malicious and lurking
to strike you or a family member
at any moment. You might not even know.

Fortunately we have a Texan for this
Manichean match-up, who penetrates
the shadowy regions where germs live.

He even goes to those hard to reach areas,
to battle them on their own turf. He is an
exclusive chemical solution, perfectly concocted.

XXXII.

America, yours is a vicious wealth.
What of these banquet tables filled
with hands? What of these libations
which burn our lives on the hill?

The tycoon sees himself the pauper,
by citing the day he went hungry,
The audience finds this endearing
and says he has paid his spectral dues.

Increasingly, my dinner comes from
ringing pocket change from my neighbor’s neck,
from grafting new desires onto his head.

Is this what you intended? Must we deceive
one another in order to live?
Must we choose between bread and water?