A trickle of tears is hard nursing
a can of recriminations, poor rations
and this spaghetti of conversation
slips through the fork of our best wishes
well, now that we’ve eaten our hearts out…
shall we leave the dirty dishes?
War on Poverty
We race to hell in shopping carts
down isles of strange inventions
voting with our Visa cards
and paying no attention
to the rising price of liberty–
safe and sound, we hunker down
while the helicopter gunships fight our war on poverty.