25 November 2020

No Sweetness in Your Sweetbread


There is no sweetness

in your sweetbread,

kindness was not

 

on the menu 

 

Truth’s restraining order

already filed by advertising

 

Designed to keep 

us in the dark,

the very way

 

we keep our victims

 

...Happily in compliance,

we draw smiles on the faces

of those whose milk...

 

and babies…

 

we stole

 

So our cartons sell,

so our bellies fill

with the delicious taste

of self-deception

 

The Laughing Cow

brand spreadables

because having your 

babies killed

 

is hilarious

 

28 October 2020

Continuity Flaws

"Villainy wears many masks, none so dangerous as the mask of virtue."

-Ichabod Crane, in the 1999 film, Sleepy Hollow


America bursts

out of our elementary 

school books

 

with glorious fanfare,

fife and drum,

flag waving in the air,

 

looking dapper

in a red bow tie,

tails and top hat

 

or dressed for battle;

red boots, red gloves,

indestructible circular shield

 

either way,

making sure to highlight 

those broad stripes 

and bright stars

 

Stand, we are told,

hand proudly over heart,

pledging blind allegiance

 

to the virtuous defender

of this land of the free,

this home of the brave,

 

the amber waves of grain,

the open arms for

the tempest-tossed,

 

the country, we are told,

God shed his grace upon

 

Self-proclaimed hero 

of our own story-book,

regurgitated repeatedly 

into school children’s

unquestioning ears

 

grooming good little patriots

 

But with closer inspection,

with the benefit of time,

we came to see the blood

dripping from the shield,

 

the stolen land 

beneath our feet

 

We learned that what we 

“shared with the Indians,”

despite parading our 

paper pilgrim hats in the hallway,

was smallpox and

the bullet end of a rifle

 

Our Captain, America,

was trading slaves

and sewing white hoods

 

always in the way of progress,

always protecting the patriarchy

 

Preemptive attacks,

misplaced retaliation,

oil wars and arms deals,

 

for-profit prisons,

children in cages,

the tempest-tossed

tossed away

 

Our claim to be 

the hero of the story

started to conflict 

with the body count

 

Liberty and justice for all, 

but hollow words on a page,

still waiting to be realized

 

America, the super hero,

revealed to be just another

comic book fantasy


with continuity flaws

 

 

 4 Oct 2020




Idea for the poem suggested by Brett Voina

24 October 2020

Views Above and Below


Peaceful,

sitting 

 

                                Peaceful, 

                                swimming

 

        water rippling,

        bobber bobbing

 

hook 

baited

 

                                hook 

                                piercing

 

        the pull of the line

 

                                brings 

                                panic

 

brings

smiles

 

                                brings

                                suffocation



24 Oct 2020

22 October 2020

Excerpts of Erdrich

 

The beautiful and brutal tapestry of contradictions,

the strong, resinous scent of burning pine pitch,

a state of ecstasy almost tangible,

a poignant sense of peacefulness

off the tips of the leaves,

low demonic growls,

eyes staring through the roof,

the defenseless dead

 



Found poem. All lines are direct quotes from pages 337 and 338 of Louise Erdrich’s novel, The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse


22 Oct 2020

 

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

 

Mr. President, a question

I’d like to pursue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Every time your mouth opens

the words are untrue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

At the victims of a hurricane,

paper towels you threw,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Seventy thousand dollars 

for the hairstyle of a cockatoo?

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Twenty-six sexual allegations,

you claim all are untrue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

While “grab ‘em by the pussy”

is what you do,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

On Hurricane Dorian’s map,

with a sharpie you drew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

“In my great and unmatched wisdom”

your mouth did spew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Racial diversity training 

you try to subdue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

You mocked the disabled,

so I ask anew,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Windmill noise causes cancer,

Believe me, it’s true,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

If she wasn’t my daughter,

we’d probably screw,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Liberate Michigan!

Let the violence ensue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Rake your forests

to keep fires from coming through,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Bleach injections

will make you feel brand new,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

Stand by, Proud Boys,

wait for my cue,

What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

The only question 

I have hitherto 

is What the fuck

is wrong with you??

 

I hope we can scrape

from the office the residue 

of whatever the fuck

was wrong with you



16 Oct 2020









14 October 2020

Salt Was the Price

 

Salt was the price

for his captured life,

this Congolese man 

in slave trader hands

 

Ota Benga

 

In nineteen oh four

brought to these shores,

so others could stare

at the St. Louis World’s Fair

 

Ota Benga

 

Just another addition 

to their living exhibition

 

Ota Benga

 

“Savages” on display,

never mind their dismay

Step up for your view

of our human zoo

and see those like

 

Ota Benga

 

In just two years’ time

in the Bronx Zoo we find

 

Ota Benga

 

For your entertainment today,

A human being on display,

Come turn your gaze

to a man in a cage,

 

Ota Benga

 

To gloat superiority, self-proclaimed,

over someone so “untamed,”

twice as many would now go

to see their “freak” in the show,

 

Ota Benga

 

At the primate house,

bones scattered about

to create the illusion

of a cannibalistic conclusion

to the eating habits of

 

Ota Benga

 

Evolution’s missing link,

they claimed with a wink,

 

Ota Benga

 

The crowd poked and they jeered,

their manner cavalier

as they laughed at the sight of

 

Ota Benga

 

As protests were groaned,
“It is absurd to make moan

over the imagined humiliation

and (the supposed) degradation,” 

The New York Times did wail,

“very low in the human scale” 

they ranked

 

Ota Benga

 

When the Zoo’s history we impart

this will be our “most amusing” part,

the Zoo director said of the caged

 

Ota Benga

 

When finally free,

homeward bound he would be,

 

Ota Benga

 

But his return hopes would unravel

with the cessation of passenger ship travel

World War I had begun,

so he came upon a gun

 

Ota Benga

 

A life forced, undesired,

No crowd would see when he fired

the bullet into his heart,

 

Ota Benga

 

A segregated, unmarked grave

No one bothered to say

that here lies

 

Ota Benga

 

In a country that still 

whitewashes its ills,

our hands are stained 

with the blood of

 

Ota Benga



2 Oct 2020







Thanks to Rob Huber for suggesting I explore human zoos as a possibility for a poem. The resources I used:


Ota Benga - Wikipedia


The Man Who Was Caged in a Zoo - The Guardian


Human Zoos: America's Forgotten History of Scientific Racism


Spectacle - One on One interview with Pamela Newark


The Tragic Life of Ota Benga - YouTube


CBC - Human Zoos: A Shocking History of Shame and Exploitation