Sunday, November 27, 2016

Pollyanna space thrill
a cup full of wastrel
the finger lingers
hovers above the dyke
waters rise nonchalant
landlubbers are drunk
how do I stop it
this vitriol
this waste from the font
how do I cop to the
the fight and the pace
illuminated hate spills into Times Square
white rage
and the umbrage 
that will reverb like hot phlegm
it makes me see rage
it makes me see them
when, in my bunny slippers, robed and asleep
I choose to count warriors
instead of sheep
it’s a Pollyanna
I am in the first car
when it returns to the base
I’ll re-ride the black star
the cyclone hits again and again
I’m fucked if I lose
I’m fucked if I win
there you are
here I am
in the midst of a war
there you are
here I am

this is it so far

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