THE secretary of offense makes a lousy general
We're in for it now. The little pains add up, pissed & deadly so

We snuck a peek at those memos about the fortunes we blew
Yesterday, we misread the weather, the dahlias froze and died

Plato's Guardians refuse to consult their own agendas, the nation
doesn't matter. The fox-heart bleats like a lamb-less ewe

Don't turn your back on the ocean. Don't wait to define your terms
Friend, lover, compañero, colleague, or fellow-traveler

Tomorrow heralds another day when hawks circle the rotunda
The mother and child reunion cancels for a handful of years

Going blind poets sit in recording studios counting the takes
And the cigarettes they'd smoke if they still smoked

Cleansing waters signify rebirth, it's the great river
we float along on these sky-blue, summer-like days