Sunday, February 21, 2010

THE NEW WAR MACHINE

by Michael H. Brownstein

Good bleeds anger through us,
One long paragraph of static,
Run on sentences. So many
Words, letters, litter,
Vowels with silent sounds.

Mercy is a word after the killing
Is done; prayer, the wounding of earth;
And one day we forget
Our ancestors. I am a happy man.
It is you who has the problem.

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