November  2002

Everything in Murmuration

 

Yes, they whisper, we can accept the

Penitentiary of souls, smoke of their torment,

Aeon’s end, change by the operation of symbol,

Yes, to the smoking chimneys in the history

Of death, endlessly belching black smoke.

 

Hell is here, earth abides,
Now ever and ever now. 

 

I can dig exhilarated police, fire and rescue,

Snipers on roofs, scuba dudes in the harbor,

Cameras, cargo and food inspectors, I don’t

Want any terror-burgers or outbreak lettuce.

Yes to guards on the monuments and bridges,

Guards on Nuke plants, guards on the guards.

 

Happy vacation, this profile of terror

Coming soon to a city near you.

 

Yes, I’m all for a meaningless existential hell,

I made peace with “big empty” a long time ago.

I survived a temptation to abandon family, church

And country. Condition orange is my favorite

Flavor, next to code red and defcon D. Bring on

The war footing and all its wicked phantoms.

 

How late does the astringent flower

Of love and trust plan to stay open?

 

Yes, I want to browse the 24/7 convenience

Store of awakening and endless rejuvenation,

From the colored chalk of my first memory

To the cloud I rode up on after finding you.

Yes, I’ve been misplaced in your nostalgia.

What ever drove you to include me, anyhow?

 

In our techno irony we are heroes,

Validating our mutual trips to Hades.

 

And yes, we are still double dates huddled  

In dim-lit hovels, drinking beer, comparing

Friends, fun and post traumatic symptoms.

 
 

©Jimmy Warner, 2002