BOILING
the soup
boiling
people alive
(the great Khan
has not heard that story
about slowly
raising the temperature
watching the frog
broil at
sixes and
sevens)
those who accept power
for what it is, and it
never is
just what it is
(ask my
friend Caligula)
will laugh, shrug their shoulders say,
“let him stew
in his own juices; he
got what he deserved”
and her case
infinitely worse
thinking
of her fate
the darkest pleasure
came pouring
oh how things slide!
one morning “hostile environment”
the next we are all off
to watch the gladiators
“ashes
and dust at the new
Colosseum new
Circus Maximus”
a sword goes in, a trident
finds its target
you wake from
the nightmare
but the horror of
who and wear you are
is a Russian doll, is a
infinite set
of Chinese boxes
first light, crack
of dawn and they wake you:
work detail: so much work to do
enterprise to inflict on
these walking skeletons, ghoulish faces
living dead who need
to be buried
ashes and dust
the problem is never
solved, there is no golden solution
just more and
more
our species trying so hard to
be the perfect
death
machine
our blue Earth
making its
little point
for every every star
out there, every
comprehending eye in
every spiral galaxy
the chemical elements combining
dividing contesting clashing
so much
there
to digest
spinning
in and
out
of perfect control
