Oh you mighty protectors

Of the status quo

You benevolent misanthropes

Who’d make a better future

By repeating the mistakes of the past

Who think that art is something

By lazy people

For you to enjoy

When you aren’t saving the world

All by yourself

Shaping it into your vision

You who’d protect the world

By keeping it down

You must think to yourself

When you’re all alone

That maybe you don’t

Have it figured out

Come Into the fun!

The bermuda triangle by john Kinsella



Pat Rafter ,savior of australian tennis,

mantains a comfortable existence on bermuda;

the flight of balls determined by the weather,

which island-culture makes more tropical

than it should-the concentration of emptiness

and expectation like nationalism postponed

and sent offshore-the queens english

an experimental turn of phrase on the front

doorstep of liberty,the fraternal vanishings

of flight on flight of the right stuff,as if play-

station IS living,as if a package holiday

has you hungering after the wealth

of the pyramids,concentrated to an echoing

point of ambiguity,like the limitations

of radar,and re-runs of "the day the earth

stood still"-remaining black and white

as childhood-making an ocean of the river,

the bright ship whispering through the ever

widening hole in the ozone layer.