 Can you bear solomn witness to precision Engineered mines, scattered across the dreamfields? Victims decaying into muted acres of quilts, Once-radiant pioneer smiles of the daring ones; Victims spread across the doorstep of a deaf-turned ear, Sneering down the marble cavity of divested hope Upon which names, yours and mine Are scrawled in blood. Gunfire sounds so natural here in Washington. Victims in hazardous rays of solar confusion Faces coal -dusted voted and trusted. See Amy Carter busted? Gazing in space toward dim basement bars Downtown as the autumn rain darkly Smeared itself into the bright Colors of his solitary reggae jukebox dream. Cul-de-sac fathers of laughing babies Sweat and wait in the sand of the oilfields, We stroke ourselves. TV Frontpage Fratjocks flexing "Now is the time for other good men to come to the aid of our country." Support our troops. From a nice, safe, distance? Rap song blazing gunner's inner sanctum. Breathing heavy pulse sharpens. With more vigorous stroking, the oil spewed Onto our fat bellies, and erupted in fire. The Man is still here with a soothing, warm wet camera. We clean up Death Highway. SunLion 1996
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