ablaze, the fraternal fallow

and in those open spaces,
you would fly your flag of ado­ra­tion, frus­tra­tion, mis­com­mu­ni­ca­tion, and muti­la­tion
 
slic­ing proud,
there -
lashed to the stern of the ves­sel Hate­ful;
 
her keel lain by cal­lous­es of home -
hands & feet stiff
(long ago,
they hauled bar­ley, by bushel
down a grav­el road)
 
but an instant of that rar­i­fied qui­et stays the haze’s obfus­ca­tion,
 
fal­tered:
our sis­ters lie lynched on dire alters
 
our home­steads,
crypts; shrines to delir­i­um
the chords of our songs left unre­solved
in imposters’ inre­quiem
 
plas­tic for stone;
fiber­glass for coal
stale rot for flesh,
cut with noth­ing
to our bones
 
mirages in the mir­ror,
dark­ly:
devil’s imps roost on red Rem­ing­tons,
limp
 
plugged,
our ears in mute
 
terror’s glut­tony,
stripped down fur­rows of
falsity’s father­ly fugue
 
truth: our souls seethe in the dark
we are drown­ing in our own decep­tions
 
in excess,
we are bar­ren
we parade noth­ing but the lies
which pro­ceed the whole of Earth­ly pain
 
breath­less,
we are fool­ish mon­strosi­ties -
the incon­gru­ent Lords of ampli­fied insan­i­ty
 
res­olute,
we are the hearthen hole into which all even­tu­al­ly fall,
fam­ished for youth
 
man­ic,
we are the monop­o­lized man­u­fac­tur­ers of mantra;
an ambi­ent, dis­cor­dant dirge
 
patri­ot­ic,
we pro­duce only per­vad­ing pater­nal plague
 
nos­tal­gic,
we are the fun­da­men­tal ero­sion of human well­ness
 
abra­sive,
we are need­less­ly suf­fer­ing -
the list­less har­le­quin of a nation
 
the world is grow­ing weary of our emer­gency
 
and the humon­gous expen­di­ture of its pet­ty insin­cer­i­ties
Edi­tor-in-Chief