for Allen Ginsberg

When did the life seep out of your bones?
Can you hold you head up high or is it too heavy to pick back up?
Is it too full of worries about the future, we all worry about a future that will not be ours.
There will never be somebody whose love is perfect enough for you –
I tried to kiss you but you pulled away, you are just learning how to feel
but it is too late for all the countries who have felt you laying on top of them for years –

I told you not to kick at the hive but you couldn’t hear me over your drilling and your bombs,
That’s not what your ears are for.
The almighty god you are so in love with gave you those ears so you could
Hear the screams of a nation before it died,
Kicked by a boot you manufactured in China,
And aren’t you glad that you did?
This boot has walked all these miles to find its creator,
It has had too long to think –
How come you never write?

Your foster children around the world are getting restless,
They are stretching their legs and claiming their territory,
They are setting up boundaries, they are setting up borders.
What will you do when they have grown up?
Where will you go now that you’ve spent your retirement fund
On the hedge funds of your youth?
Sometime this world is not our home.

What will you do when this world is no longer a home for you?


July 3, 2007. Fallujah

I don’t give a fuck about America.
America don’t give a fuck about me.

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