I asked the major general
to please be more specific.
"Which would you rather capture,
Atlantic or Pacific ?"
He said his plans were secret,
which made uncommon sense.
For, after all, his only goal
was national defense.
He said he had some tanks
on hold and bombers in the air.
He had no qualms on killing
those who said this wasn’t fair.
"You tainted souls on union rolls
who protest by the hour,
remember this," I heard him hiss,
"I’ve got the firepower."
It was said that Chopin
had some ivory
in his fingernails.
Hemingway’s autopsy
showed his entrails
were quite stuffed with quails.
We must ultimately be resigned
to the things we have to leave behind.
Better to be friendly in the long run
than to leave a legacy unkind.
What we found
was a heart on the ground
outside the organ store.
Appallingly pink,
but emitting no stink,
it was squishy but firm,
and beating no more.
It didn’t look broken
or aching or frozen.
It didn’t look restless
or cheatin’ or blue.
We poked some inside it,
but couldn’t abide it.
And then we decided
this pure heart was true.
So we left it behind,
hoping someone would find
a replaceable part
for a heartless restart.
S&H and B&O
a.m. p.m. GTO
CIA RCMP
i.e. LSMFT
fm FBI tv
e.g. RCA GE
SPCA iud
NATO blt
USAF KKK
rbi NASA
MA DA PHD
YMCA GOP
ACLU lsd
M&M and J&B
He doffs his own abysmal light
in petty streets of thieves.
He passes by a horse
wrapped in pure velvet.
He scrapes his nail on carriages
that may be made of gold,
and everywhere, in doors,
old men with helmets.
The days are fading in and out,
the air, the crippled leaves,
and everything alive is moving slowly
toward places where the body disappears,
the eye perceives,
the shadows here are somewhat less than holy.
