on the way to the coffee shop to read Fanon

short brown men

bent double

under america

digging up the peonies, planting

the mums

  .

I wanted to rage, shoot, 

kill murder, maim

instead

I went to t.j. max,

and bought a new
pair of gloves.

.

All the billions in the buildings

going through the

car wash

leaking oil and gasoline

soap,

was making me 

itch,

fantastically

.

the office: furniture, self 

import, and struggle to

make the car payments.

servicing the debt

with 

the plunder

.

“A Nation of Savages”

.

and out in the land, the styrofoam and 

architecture

sags

into a decrepit beauty

.

it’s too much

my heart

 explodes

.

some think, suffering may lead us

to the light

others,

it's just a long
way
down

.

but the bricks don’t lie

they lay

stacked

on burnt

dead
bodies. exchanged

for piles 

of money

.

a yung black man, sweeps,

leaves into the garbage.

can the smell of traffic, stop a slow

slide into hopeful

despair?

.

out in the streets
they call it:

flares in the night

he grits his teeth

bears grin

at the moose

and shoot

.

maybe you tube 

videos

of the uncrushable spirit
human happiness

will save us

.

we are, after all

ancient beasts

crafty and wise

and the temporary evils

can in a moment of 

surprise

collapse

implode

from their own nearsighted stupidity

.

[someone else wrote]

the problem of evil

in complex societies

technologically sophisticated

and disjointed

may be perpetuated more

by passive acceptance

than any malevolent force

.

a cold sun lights the last yellow leaves 

and i’m not shivering

any more

.