there is a wall /
between us and a horde— /
mass of angels come to usher us all / at once /
back to nothing
Metal Mouth
a smooth circular motion they tell me / is best for wetting the crooked flesh of it
Internal Combustion
you can’t imagine how many wearing blank /
eyes and blunt mouths stand ready, in formation /
to pull you, us, one by one, /
to the engine and lay your body, /
our bodies, /
in the flame when the coal runs low /
you can’t imagine. And yet it still won’t be enough.
Patient Wrath
you think you’ve seen the most blessed forbearance / you think you’ve seen the most righteous wrath
In the West
The reaching obelisk that throws
this long trench bears an inscription…
Cost of Democracy
Fair or Unfair, High Wealth Taxation is Necessary for a Functional Democracy