Everyone I know is either
On fire or depressed.
Some are part of the choir
Chanting in the pits while
The dead are dragged onstage.
Vitalist cryptograms shuffle the heartsick merging.
It’s a standard killing that lasts a slow lifetime.
Peace talk crisis rallies immobilize mutilation.
Devastate the discontent and warp a wrap
Around future torrential election redoubts
A dumpster of groceries taken to the dump,
Incinerator ash poured into juicers and whirled
Into the half-semblance of a synthetic tomato
I tenderize retinas and escape the reticulated worship
Of war ships humiliating apocalyptic sex aids
In the early part of this past century the president felt his calling while playing a pick-up game of baseball in a sandlot. He dropped the bat from his shoulder and turned to the horizon. The other children knew something important was happening and grew frightened.