(america)?
America, half blind to speak
half deaf to hear—
your sights
unseen by lauders,
unheard by faithful.
America what a pernicious fulcrum you're resting on:
what listless actors,
what hollow audience.
America your rouge is smudged,
your mascara drippy.
'America woke me up
in a dream,
said I had been writing
in my sleep.
It made Her cry.
There was an academic
executioner turned exiler
and America left me
for my best friend.'
Something's been lost;
the world is trembling—
my skin is trembling
from hearing words
that can never be written again...
(and there was so much else that needed to be said then,
and now—nation of perpetual noise—
now—June 3rd, 2011—
now, words have learned to fly off
on wings of lacerated tongues.)
Look, this responsorial
need not be an empty page,
and even if it's true that nothing can ever really be said,
I'd sooner suffocate from manic exasperated attempts of expression
than become a drunken hermit
in my cave of things and cynicism.
You've stiffed yourself
America.
America,
America?
are you imaginary?
are you Santa Claus?
are you Hallmark?
are you Disney?
are you Pornography?
are you a Rock?
a Dimesack?
a Used Bottle of Hair Bleach?
America are you dieing?
America why aren't you answering?
America I saw you disregarded
in a thrift store bin.
America I hear an echo.
America no one cares about flying or burning
your flag anymore;
cops are no longer pigs,
except we are all still niggers and spics.
America can't you write a love song anymore?
Is it true that only bad guys carry guns?
America have you come up with a good enough slur for the muslims yet?
'Have you heard?
They stopped playing
America on the radio.'
America will you turn that shit off!?
America my car's broken down again.
America yesterday your stock was up 26 and ¾ points.
Hey
America! your children can buy adventure on the internet now.
America are you a sum of people—
of personal minimum wage celebrities?
America I don't want to pay taxes;
I want a 3D HD Flatscreen TV.
America what's a suspension bridge?
America what is a bundled derivative?
Wikipedia can't quite tell me...
America what do tulips look like?
Who you callin' faggot
America?
When did you start wearing a bra
again
America?
America when will dinner be ready?
America when did you get “GRIME”
tattooed on your placid thighs?
Did you stop working out?
You're arms are getting pretty flabby.
America I'm having problems
keeping my eyes open,
how much for a cup of coffee?
America,
America?
Why aren't you saying anything?
Though tainted and diseased
with corn manure poison,
your aquatic veins are still pulsing
and I swear I've heard them sing
before...
but the speakers are blown out
and the repairman's out of business.
Poetry is not commodity,
America—
MFA will not save you:
MFA—Mother-Fuck
America.
Love is not commodity,
America:
I lost
rose lip
idol eyes
in a sea of
rose lip
idol eyes
and it only cost me 11.99
and one day perusing boutiques,
treading through malls,
wondering why they don't hire life guards
to protect 14 year-old catalog girls
and their “are you going to rape me now?” mouths.
God is not commodity
America:
I see you, you naïve atheist,
you capitalist christian bastards.
Words are scary
but please, please listen to them again,
please speak them again.
You're gonna leave me looking foolish,
America,
begging for your lips and earlobes
...please
America, please.
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