Sunday, April 9, 2017

Oceans & Technology (Written After the First Gulf War)


Out here in this country of unending sleep,
I inherit horses in winter
and blowing hands;

above the clouds, and the televisions of L.A.
(where once a blue whore danced on a powdered mask),
a woman is broadcast on air,

a former debutante manipulated by plastic surgeons
and ultimately disposed of by parapsychologists
in the Pentagon.

Out here in the shadow of a paradox,                    
I huddle in wonder, decomposed but undiminished
while a hundred warplanes

fly over toxic foam (oceans and technology),
breast implants found hidden in the hospital gown
of a surrogate mother.