jimmy, janice, kent state 4. joe yablonski &
the united mines workers, up/down, in
smokeless mirrors; angela D,
they said she done it
so down she goes; paul turns in
his photo i.d. and pepper turns to salt
in wounds we didn't know we were
accruing because the beat went on.
we kept time
with a spiro agnew watch.
holy catfish; ah, well, no:
the priestly berrigan boys
are brought to ground.
the mary tyler moore show.
to alter the consciousness.
i worked at the wtc, the real one.
so, what do i get?
had i thought to go to israel that year
i would only have gotten to the wailing wall.
i'm in reruns at this point.
(april,2014, Brunswick, GA,
after reading a NYT article)
Topic(s) of this poem: history