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new american

Shadows of wings

of missile-clad, military aircraft

fly across the wet reflections

of my human

on the shower floor.


I sigh at what they’re there for.


Black box static

in rich american technicolor:

“deTHpiKable acts, no mercy”

segregates me

from my planet, Earth.


I mourn for Sylvester’s bird.


Shower drops fall

with tears of empathy for my brothers:

friend, partner, kinfolk, lover who

jumped like lab rats

from the guillotine.


I repent my brother’s sin.


My Soul cries out

in pain for humanity, the end near.

My terrified child, bound and gagged,

wriggles escape.

He stands and preaches.


I listen to his teachings:


“Break from shower

shadows! Flush the black box and dry away

your woes! Take from me your wings. To

them give new life.

Set our angel free;


Be strong, feel love, show mercy!”





October 14, 2001, NYC

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