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War & Violenceexpand_moreWe roasted mastodons. Designed skewers, ovens, steampits.
Then bullet strikes were spiderwebbing the windshield.
I told you how I’ve always been attracted to little violences.
The stars begin to turn clockwise, freeing us of all consequences.
Elsewhere, perhaps here too, regimes stagger, a congress ends.
He greets you with a kiss and marries your elbow to walk the path.
What right had Flora, of all people, to pronounce on what was strange?
I am veins and breath, the entrance the world passes through.
I’ve taken the pledge and made donations of blood to the world.
Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?
I want you enough to gnash you into a silence made from pieces of silver.
A child no bigger than small change calls from her window j’ai faim.
My brush an M-16, thirty-round clips for tubes of paint, all of them red.
If you can be seen, you can be killed. No-man’s-land is everyman’s land.
My father would have ended my clandestine career on the spot.
Like lions in cages, women like me dream . . . of freedom . . .
We cannot leave it to the forces to rub out the color of the world.
The sloshed grownups had little to say to me. I loved it that I was alien.
It’s the human genius of reproducing not quite exactly.
His voice was wrung with panic as he spit curses like spoiled milk.
Instead, she stares right at us, her shoulder half-naked in broad daylight.
What right does an American mutt like me have to depict in fiction the lives of a Salvadoran family?
This skinny blonde steps on the stage in a skimpy Balinese costume.
You are home in your bed like a soft animal with really intense feelers.
Colonel Hammer glares, willing us to attention. A few pilots sit up.
The year we left the reservation a white boy gave me a trash bag.
The story of Wing Biddlebaum’s hands is worth a book in itself.
Your life is your own and then suddenly it belongs to someone else.
Having held down the past applying pressure to its sacrum . . .
Some people are so beautiful, they belong everywhere they go.
