Wednesday, November 3, 2021

Virginia is for lovers


3 November 2021

“If it were a dream,

What would it mean to you, this

Odd, engaging, Day

Of the Dead mask, shield

For the already almost

Deceased, painted eyes

On the half-skull, a-

live to being leaving

Earth, a flagrant bone

Arced in triumph at

Boondoggles written into

Contracts, diminished

More identities

In word-shifters, trans-nouns, verbs

It’s stasis in drag

That drags us out of

Our so-called selves, fuschia

Bellies hang over

Like red umbrellas

Over Tibetan bells, girls

Dance in red-stringed hats

Day I will have died

In wool forest, slanted light

Blunted by water

But there is water

Not fire, a politician

Carries her semi-

Automatic gun

Used to run homeless shelter

O say can you see

O non-sequitur

O logical fallacy

The president’s son

Will reincarnate

In the plaza his father

Died on, there was grass

So there was water

So there was fire from the gun

Shot from the warehouse

Books now banned, disturb

The peace imposed, silences

Like silicon boobs

Seen but not heard, big

Like Loa, shield volcano

Achilles’ heel, hell

Limitation is

The art of the deal, if cards

Are your currency

He is the shadow

Behind each shiny object

Welcome Fascist-Lite.”

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