The End of the World

The good will of

billions,

and the bad will of half of them

twists within

the neutral vapor of missiles,

contorting like two

ugly sluts, their

masculine oil

scent filling the

wheat plains,

steel fences and

"The use of deadly force is authorized."

try and hold back the wind

rushing East out of the Rockies.

It will all be coming too fast

to our homes.

The last gasp of greed is still want.

It is a poverty of imagination,

So, in the face of that we are

forced together. To huddle

and to remember the times

before missiles and concrete

covered holes in the ground.

This is what America wants?

What our culture reaches for?

What is it we think we see through fears

greasy windows?

Is it the hurricanes eye,

the calm Zen center

in the middle of the whirl?

Or merely murder ...

to spite the heart.

To set skin and hair set on fire.

We wake and walk

we vote and we talk.

All the while

in the middle

of the celestial spheres,

the no-mans land between

an imagined paradise

and an accommodated hell.

The level tips and the

gold dust falls out ...

Good bye!

Good Buy!

The market correcting itself.

But you can't win

you cannot return again to where you have been

and you cannot escape.

In the end

the triumph lies with the

laws that create our demise,

and we have that to think about

in the in that eternal instant between

"My god, the end is happening..."

and

It happened.

G. Sotir



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