Category: Uncategorized

I get it; my interests aren’t that special
I got no lobbyists there to take you to dinner
Got no judges I can fly
To a private island right nearby
Making sure my voice is heard
It’s pretty damn hard
Cause I’m not special
I’m just not special

I’m tired of being told it’s my own damn fault
For not being born on the top
It’s not hard they say, and point to the ladder
But we all know they’ve greased the rungs
The fix is in before you’re done
but they get in without a climb
Because they’re special
I guess they’re special

Took me a while to realize what that word means
Special’s got nothing to do with you and me
It’s just a little code word for money you see
The smoke and the mirrors will make your eyes sting
They distract you with every little thing
‘Cause you’re not special
You’re not special

Millionaires they pay no taxes
I’m putting coins in the jar for Sally’s cancer
Down here, we’re all going broke
Choking to death on all the back room smoke
Falling for every line and crook
Because we’re not special
We’re just not special

They keep pushing my Retirement further away
Even though they told me all I had to do was pay
You can’t really trust what a Fox face says
Felons running and pretending they’re friends
They take away my rights at the very top
Cause I’m not special
I’m just not special

They make it seem like you can’t trust your neighbor
All along acting like they’re doing you a favor
One day you see the fake promises told
It’s time to walk away from that fools gold
We did it before and we can do it again
Because you know what?
They’re not that special
They’re just not special

They only have a power we give them
So what if we take it back?

“This culture void.” The Martyr says. “This fake economy.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ.” The Advocate says.
“Field of Dreams, you hear?—Joe says.” The Narrator says.
“That’s 20 miles east of Columbus.” The Historian says.
“A bunch more factories in Ohio.” The Narrator says.
“God.” The Advocate says. “This Hell.”
“Rebirth of pride, Joe says.” The Narrator says.
“Yeah right, more like Birth of a Nation.” The Advocate says.
“Yo, this Amerika never existed and never will—it’s always been an ego trip, this, idea,
but never actually realized.” The Martyr says.
“I want to die.” The Student says.
“No, Joe.” The Narrator says.
“Rust Belt can’t simply just stop being Rust Belt—that’s what it is, Joe.” The Historian
says.
“My God.” The Student says.
“Don’t you know?” The Narrator says.
“I am so unmoved except to anger.” The Martyr says.
“Rage.” The Student says.
“Disgust.” The Advocate says.
“Not even disappointment. Because to be disappointed means you believed in something
in the first place—something good.” The Martyr says. “And I was let down a long time ago. I
couldn’t tell you when, probably somewhere along the war on terror.”
“Or drugs.” The Student says.
“Or the culture wars.” The Historian says.
“Or what they did to something I did believe in.” The Martyr says.
“Twice.” The Historian says.
“Jesus—I could go on.” The Martyr says.
“All the old decrepit motherfuckers. Out of touch and tone deaf as hell.” The Martyr says.
“Just a minute ago, they were chanting USA! USA! USA! like high school boys.” The
Student says.
“I hate all of these people.” The Martyr says. “They make me sick.”
“Deficit, Joe says deficit.” The Narrator says.
“Christ.” The Student says.
“Joe says, I’m a Cap*tal*st. Yeah, and a proud one, he adds.” The Narrator says.
“I want to die.” The Student says.
“Buddy! Joe says.” The Narrator says.
“Nothing is sacred in this country.” The Martyr says.
“Responsibility, Joe says.” The Narrator says.
“The State of THIS Union? The worst it’s ever been…” The Historian says.
“We all hate all these people.” The Martyr says. “And there is no one there to unite us all
as to why.”
“Being an American is ruining my life.” The Student says

last night I dreamt that I could 1
pick breadcrumbs from each citizen ‘s eyes2
underneath my lids another eye has opened3
a white line, blade-sharp, streaks the floor,4
a pair of eyes, the most remarkable lies5
this is the poison in repetition6
and washing us all down the valley7
with eyes not squinting or narrowed but held wide open8

1 Invasive – Ada Limon
2 4 a.m. Bombardment – Ilya Kaminsky
3From the Prison House – Adrienne Rich
4 What Was the Thought? Robert Penn Warren
5My God It’s Full of Stars – Tracy K. Smith
6Repetition -Kay Ryan
7Telescope – Ted Kooser
8The Shooting Lesson – David Wagoner

Bright eyed lady, spin the thread, sew the flag
Fife and drum marching across the land
Hear the creed in far off places
Democracy’s seed, Lady Liberty
Needle skipped, would’ve cried for a penny
Rain fell, the liberty tree, into the lock, the treasury key
Out of mind, never knowing here or there
Untied shoes, American blues
Keep it free, Lady Liberty
Freedom lives and always has despite me
Hiding inside the corners, state lines, pushing thru
Time zones, rippling borders for you
Paved in gold, a capital dream
Walk the steps, Lady Liberty
Hand on heart, passing by you were steady
Uncle Sam’s pointed finger to his children for worse or better
The next leaders buried in knowing the weather
On the wind, stars and stripes, with allegiance, Lady Liberty
Feelings reveal, hey, it’s going to be alright
Red, white and blue flying high
Colors melt, kiss the flame
Broken arrows, each generation be saved
Spread your wings, a dove’s feather, wink to me, Lady Liberty
One love gives should I receive I am ready
Into the deep eyes of the nation
Clear and bright, the torch light
History’s turnstile, God willing we shall rise above
Grace we’ll win, let it begin, Lady Liberty
Spread the word from henceforth to ever-after

They sent us there as kids,
We came back as men.
We stood shoulder to shoulder,
Our country we’d defend.

We saw the good,
We saw the bad,
Even the ugly too.
And when the war was over,
Our flag still flew true.

The sweat, the blood, the tears,
We shed with one another,
A bond forged in fire,
We’ll always have each other.

Now we sit and ponder,
About the ones we lost.
Was it really worth it,
If you tally up the cost?

But if our country needs us,
To storm another shore,
They’ll shatter the glass of freedom,
It’ll break in case of war.
We’ll answer the call,
Like we always do.

And if our country needs,
We’ll lay down our lives for you.

We fight endless wars
With deranged weapons for fun
And pretend honor

And so it tolled.
Not rhythmic
Nor harmonic.
Glances at stained glass. A room accompanied by the sun.
He cried. We cried.
The sun went away yet the crying had stayed.
The doors are so welcoming. Yet I fear what comes inside. No longer home.
We looked at him all day. He’ll save us.
Yet he stood no place in our actions.
It arrived today. Our very last.
Resting in our hands, the final message.
We cried. He cried.
And so it tolled.

The sun never returned.

t was as if nothing had happened at all
there was neither a war nor an enemy
we were sitting by the seashore
under the shadows of the forest
in the middle of a field of petunias

You were kitting
and the kids were playing with the sand,
I was turning the pages of my memoir,
the wind was the only thing happening
and it ruffled the pages of my memoir

I returned to the past, long ago
neither you nor your knitting existed.
I was a kid and I played with a wooden sword
but ,you were not born to have a memory,
remembrance and so the kids

Just, the pages of my memoir turned with the wind
I took a gun and went to fight with an enemy
that did not exist and the war that did not happen at all
But, there, the sea was not calm
nor did any tree have a shadow

and as far as the eye could reach there was a desert
And the sad green flags that were fluttering
In the garden of red tulips
that stretched beyond the horizon
and it was as if nothing had happened at all.

The train is not delayed – I just wanted to sleep.
Beside me, a gentile dressed as a rabbi and this
morning, a rabbi as a gentile.
Of course – we are at war, so the firearms
are pregnant and a gang of halos in
camouflage sleep on one
station or another.

Bodies on top of bodies. Fully
clothed and writhing. One short americano,
freeze halfway to death and two large brown
army horses stare down at me. Everything
as intimate as if I were asleep. My own
costume, between my ears.

Peel a tangerine from holon and – with
sticky fingers, bum a cigarette off some
dangerous strangeness
on a wall.

In the muslim graveyard I finish
off my thinking. The loss of something
bothers me most, when I have lost
only part of it.

Where did you hide my passport?
crackers again. For dinner. Answers
inside an empty, shut fish moth.

I tiptoe,
gazing at the jars upon the table,
dull dried nuts, only the
lotus seeds, crawling with weevil bugs.

Grandma, in a distant room, her snores,
bypassing along her back.
I call for grandpa, and together we watch,
the hollow, writhing lotus seeds,
lifted in our hands,
in the midday sun.

They all lie down, in the winnow pan,
get weathered in the sun,
autumn-like, jolt at will.
Until we wake once more, step onto the balcony,
only to find the wind, having long swept them away,
leaving not even a lingering smell.

Clear lotus, their husks wailing with the fall leaves,
its bitterness drifted light in the air, once among trees,
crops, and lawns,
fluttering here and there,
and so silently sank to the ground.