Aug. 5

When a man is asked to sing of his anger
the risk is that without remorse virtue dies
War then is in the face, in this homelessness,
the despair which couldn’t wait couldn’t ask for
We don’t talk to each other anymore we
email global reach managed minutes morning
to noon in the hospitals we are all old
forbidden to talk of lost sons, asked to smile
Enough, they’ll hear the news, men in photographs
die and nothing will seem simple, their faces
especially where sorrow stretched everything
Maps point to? and defeat looms where? out there where?
Here the naked body is where terror lies
Guilt builds monuments, the way we spend our time