ahab
that empty chart of a man -
night shocks at the heart of his philosophy -
nothing breaks between him and now.
how can we index the price of his direction,
catalogue the invisible evidence
which he has cost us?
how confirm the mass murder
centered in his plate, how refuse
to partake of the carnage on which
he bids us to dine?
concilatory in tone,
admonissions against
falsified admissions,
he presents us with
sequined sea-deep dresses
to wear at his banquet.
litanies of metaphorical subsistence
fails adequate partisanship,
falls short of resistance sufficient
enough to discount this heritage, as
from the Pequod to the Crawford Ranch,
mesquite fires sink this presidential ship.
posted by judy j @ 12:48 PM
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