On the scale between mince and uncut-up human,
living or dead,
hash is next to mince
and there's a couple of degrees
between it and chops.
It's pretty cut-up meat.
Bombs and shells make good hash.
In WWI, after a shell attack,
adding bullets
was 'passing the salt and pepper.'
What seasoning today
relieves the nerves of the human beast
in the hash
in the blown-up mosques
and markets in the Middle East?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem