Tuesday, November 15, 2011


They say I'm tiresome. I say they take too many pills.

They do things like settle down, i.e. die from the neck up, pelvis down, that just don't sound pleasant.

Their favorite monarchs are too busy hyperventilating behind bizarre guards hyperventilating behind visor-shield masks to be reasoned with, please call back and, in the meantime, they'll beat you down.

Then, your sideline intellectual friends will ask you questions, questions that just don’t seem to get to the right people, questions that can sound like questions not of what you say but of you, questions? that insinuate you have to justify your stance, as if compassion, logic, peace, justice, anger at lack of, is a stance.

They will ask you about things you have experienced & they have not like they're testing you for signs you know what happened, i.e. demanding you tell a tale that matches their preferred vision.

They will continue to make like it's acceptable to move to Manhattan from some faraway dusty place & dismiss people who have worked in the city for decades as "bridge and tunnel." Hey look, they're here to get famous; it's for others to build, maintain & defend.

They will talk as if witnessing violence is the equivalent of reading about witnessing violence & know what could have been done to prevent it (if only they'd been there).

Will bullshit post-2005 as if living in New Orleans for years is the mere equivalent of what they've read or felt about it on five or no visits, on their celebrity television sojourns; reality is less valid to them, of course, than the tales they want to push.

And push they will, sometimes with sharp hard sticks
wielded by furious men being attacked with fury
by no one
but their own urges against the unarmored.

Next, they say nothing. Their silence screams.


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