The Bush Era Complacency [Today's News Poem, December 12, 2010]

The Bush Era Complacency [Today's News Poem, December 12, 2010]

We were too surprised to burn the offices
With the bosses locked inside to roast alive.
Paper airplanes carried our objections
Into bins to shred, recycle, print again.

Easy money won't explain itself—don't ask.
Wait instead for disappointment—better still
Just forget about it: life is blessing.
Bless yourself and shift the contracts; buy a house...

Yes, a place to watch the airplanes burn your work.
Watch your colleague jump the window, swim the air—
Never watch the end, just watch the leap of faith:
It is much the same as yours; you never feared

Before, so why obsess right now?
Just stay at home and watch a show
Of life before we traded it
For paper, gone to shreds or ash.

"it can be argued that Ralph Nader did to Gore what Ross Perot did to George H.W. Bush in 1992, that is, cost him the election."
—Brad Knickerbocker, The Christian Science Monitor, Staff Writer / December 12, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Politics/The-Vote/2010/1212/Ten-years-after-Bush-v.-Gore-the-fight-goes-on





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Horseshoes on Jockeys [Today's News Poem, December 11, 2010]

Horseshoes on Jockeys [Today's News Poem, December 11, 2010]

Watch! In the distance a horse is approaching at gallop.
Look at the silhouette, lost is the animal; gained is the symbol.
The sun is so juicy—tomato of starlight—it's laughing.

Somehow the stars have converted their starlight to fingers
Tickling blankets on stone in the summer and twinkling something
Like hope, as the roots of the twilight expand through the air with their fragrance.

Let's say the blanket's a bench, though the stone's also granite;
Trade out the horse for a uniform bearing a truncheon and handcuffs;
The floodlamps are sunlight—so welcome my steed, you're a beautiful peon.

Let me admire all your buttons of brass.
Let me examine your heart made of tin.
Let me perceive my reflection in boots
That you've polished in sunlight, on stirrups; on horses
That have frothed in the twilight and died after midnight.

"For the first time since the 1935 prize, when the laureate, Carl von Ossietzky, languished in a concentration camp and Hitler forbade any sympathizers to attend the ceremony, no relative or representative of the winner was present to accept the award or the $1.5 million check it comes with. Nor was Mr. Liu able to provide a speech, even in absentia."
—SARAH LYALL, The New York Times, Published: December 10, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/11/world/europe/11nobel.html

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Nameless Flower of Blood [Today's News Poem, December 10, 2010]

Nameless Flower of Blood [Today's News Poem, December 10, 2010]

Whatever we name you, attempting to hide your true nature;
However concealed, you're perennial—just as the blossoms
Always return once the earth tilts its axis correctly—
Just like the orchid, you thrive in surprising locations;
Clinging where scarcity threatens, where fear is the strongest:
We kill for the chance for our offspring to prosper, so why not
The flower of blood in a garden that grew on the corpses,
And why not aggression at leisure? We'll ready our pleasure,
Launching campaigns where we'll upturn the balance and scatter
Seedlings; we'll slash and we'll burn it together to remake
Everything into our image. We'll call you an implement,
Or call you defense or necessity—never by name.

"For many Europeans, Washington’s fierce reaction to the flood of secret diplomatic cables released by WikiLeaks displays imperial arrogance and hypocrisy, indicating a post-9/11 obsession with secrecy that contradicts American principles. Sarah Palin called for him to be hunted as an “anti-American operative with blood on his hands,” "
—STEVEN ERLANGER, The New York Times, Published: December 9, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/10/world/europe/10wikileaks-react.html

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Party Invitation [Today's News Poem, December 9, 2010]

Party Invitation [Today's News Poem, December 9, 2010]

I'm throwing a glamorous dinner.
Attend it.
I'm taking a hammer to windows
To break them.
And here come the invites—I'm shooting
Off bullets.
Each one is singing, 'please come to my party
You fuckers.'
Shoplift for potluck: your worst is expected
To rock us
Out of the cradle of safety—
Recklessly—
Into hypnotic disaster.
Finally
Feast as you've never, then arson
Playfully.
Fill yourself up and then burn it all down:
Glass looks like crystal in gasoline flames.

"One scenario that cops are eyeing is that the lowlife Smith, 43, shot the well-coiffed Chasen several times through her car's passenger window, but had no chance to rob her because she hit the gas and sped off, Publicker said. She crashed a short distance away."
—The New York Post, DAN MANGAN, Last Updated: 1:45 AM, December 9, 2010
http://www.nypost.com/p/news/national/suicide_gun_killed_ronni_yANNo9cXC4ERfdOn3qMwJL

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Philosopher Buck in the DMZ [Today's News Poem, December 8, 2010]

Philosopher Buck in the DMZ [Today's News Poem, December 8, 2010]

It's the sound of unlikeness—not wind or the bees,
And its singing gets louder, before all its thunder
And the angles of splinter unravel themselves.
In the hidden, there's wonder. We've nibbled the mushrooms,
And we've sheltered in granite when clouds seem to chase
Us through mountains. They sneer all their winter exactly
As the canisters spend all their wonder; they kill
All beholding the sight of that liter of rapture.

"Mullen called a North Korean artillery attack last month that killed four South Koreans "unprovoked.""
—KIM KWANG-TAE Associated Press © 2010 The Associated Press, Dec. 8, 2010, 12:53AM
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/top/all/7329281.html

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Julian Penetrator [Today's News Poem, December 7, 2010]

Julian Penetrator [Today's News Poem, December 7, 2010]

Penetrate slimy and hidden commodities:
Info or pussy, you know they're the same.
Isolate subjects or objects of interest:
Ply your demeanor—your malcontent charm.
Soon they will have your enlightening substances.
Everything guarded is valuable trove.
Later, secretions and secrets attest to your
Rage against secrets; your penis, your pen.

"The WikiLeaks founder, Julian Assange, who is wanted in Sweden over claims he sexually assaulted two women, was in Wandsworth prison tonight after a judge refused him bail at an extradition hearing in London. Gemma Lindfield, for the Swedish prosecutors, said the first involved complainant A, who said she was the victim of "unlawful coercion" on the night of 14 August in Stockholm. The court heard Assange is accused of using his body weight to hold her down in a sexual manner. The second charge alleged Assange "sexually molested" Miss A by having sex with her without a condom when it was her "express wish" one should be used. The third charge claimed Assange "deliberately molested" Miss A on 18 August "in a way designed to violate her sexual integrity". The fourth charge accused Assange of having sex with a second woman, Miss W, on 17 August without a condom while she was asleep at her Stockholm home."
—Caroline Davies, Sam Jones and Afua Hirsch guardian.co.uk, Tuesday 7 December 2010 20.52 GMT
http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2010/dec/07/julian-assange-denied-bail

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Panopticon Siren [Today's News Poem, December 6, 2010]

Panopticon Siren [Today's News Poem, December 6, 2010]

Oprah is myth; she's a lighthouse you fancy.
Row in the fog with the children, they're freezing
So chuck them both overboard; row even harder.
Your husband is worthless, he vacillates, jumping
Into the water, he screams while you paddle.
Soon there is nothing but silence—no splashing
Or shouts, there's just light in the fog in the ocean.
There's nothing like shipwreck: it's beach full of pebbles.
Land near the beam, let the seagulls approach you:
Worship together panopticon goddess.

"When this year's honorees were announced in September, some readers of The Times' blogs questioned whether Winfrey was worthy. According to the Kennedy Center's website, the honor is "given to those in the performing arts for their lifetime of contributions to American culture." Sure, Winfrey has earned Oscar and Golden Globe nominations for "The Color Purple." But she's primarily known as a talk show host. Critics wondered: Does that really qualify as art?"
—Melissa Maerz, Los Angeles Times, December 6, 2010
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-et-1206-kennedy-honors-20101206,0,3436624.story

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Projecting Biases At Voids [Today's News Poem, December 5, 2010]

Projecting Biases At Voids [Today's News Poem, December 5, 2010]

Censorship works—if you doubt it, you're hopeless.
Truth is a cell that evolves with the lies—
A fish that is eaten—delicious, defeated.
Look in the darkness; a pattern emerges:
Look at your portrait, your vision of naught;
You call it the 'other,' but see imposition.
Bias yourself with selective attention.
Outrage will nourish your curious whims;
A nicotine, opiate... something refreshing,
Almost the genuine product—imperfect.
Who can permit all this darkness around
And tolerate gazes from voids into gazes?
Pick at it, pantomime dramas of knowledge:
Isolate motes in the eyes of the void,
Deny that you're kin, or you're finished—you're finished.

"Li Changchun, a member of China’s top ruling body, the Politburo Standing Committee, and the country’s senior propaganda official, was taken aback to discover that he could conduct Chinese-language searches on Google’s main international Web site. When Mr. Li typed his name into the search engine at google.com, he found “results critical of him.”"
—JAMES GLANZ and JOHN MARKOFF, The New York Times, Published: December 4, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/05/world/asia/05wikileaks-china.html
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Combustible Angst [Today's News Poem, December 4, 2010]

Combustible Angst [Today's News Poem, December 4, 2010]

Telegram sent from inferno to office.
Blaze from the circuitry: lines on a graph.
Pick up the phone—it's for you—it's a scorcher.
Burn off your sideburns, your stubble; your face
Spared from the temperature, spared by the distance.
Graph? Well, it's curved like the universe; graphed
Almost balloon-like, so call it inflation.
Excess delivers itself where unneeded.
Likewise, attention may wander the airwaves
Searching for call-signs where nothing survives
Longer than whimsy; than carbon in blaze.

"After more than three days, Israel’s worst-ever fire still raging; Five million trees destroyed across 50,000 dunams of land; World’s biggest fire-fighting plane joining the battle."
—YAAKOV LAPPIN AND YAAKOV KATZ, The Jerusalem Post, 12/05/2010 00:42
http://www.jpost.com/NationalNews/Article.aspx?id=197998

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Ape Charmer [Today's News Poem, December 3, 2010]

Ape Charmer [Today's News Poem, December 3, 2010]

If you're sincere, guard your wallet and your blood
Especially: guard your humors, your essences.
Obvious fidgeter: when someone appraises you,
You stare at the wall, or an ear—they can see it.
Your doors are unlocked, you demand them respected,
But who can resist what's unguarded?
You laugh at the jokes and you listen to stories;
You give your permission when you nod and you blink your awareness,
And stammer to speak as they're looting your coffers
And leave you with nothing but stories—just stories.

"The portrait of President Hamid Karzai of Afghanistan that emerges from a cache of confidential American diplomatic cables obtained by WikiLeaks and made available to a number of news organizations reflects his trajectory from the eager leader anointed by the West to an embattled politician who often baffles, disappoints or infuriates his official allies."
—HELENE COOPER and CARLOTTA GALL, Published: December 2, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/03/world/asia/03wikileaks-karzai.html

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Delicious Intelligence [Today's News Poem, December 2, 2010]

Delicious Intelligence [Today's News Poem, December 2, 2010]

We will pile up so many corpses, astronauts will only need to ascend them to get to space.
All meat will become identical and we will eat the dead with gusto.
We will bloat and this will give us escape velocity as the gas of our hype thrusts us to space.
All meteors, asteroids—planetary bodies will be seasoned with gusto.
We will search for intelligence; eating, expanding our bulk through the galaxy, in search of space.
All black holes will draw themselves closer and stick to their kindred with gusto.

"After days of speculation about an as-yet-unspecified development in the "search for evidence of extraterrestrial life," NASA does the big reveal at 2 p.m. ET today -- and you can watch it unfold in real time via streaming video and Twitter. "
—Alan Boyle, MSNBC, Cosmic Log, 4 hours ago as of 1:20pm PST
http://cosmiclog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2010/12/02/5567143-et-life-the-truth-will-be-out-there

"But now researchers have coaxed a microbe to build itself with arsenic in the place of phosphorus, an unprecedented substitution of one of the six essential ingredients of life. The bacterium appears to have incorporated a form of arsenic into its cellular machinery, and even its DNA, scientists report online Dec. 2 in Science."
—Rachel Ehrenberg, Science News, December 2, 2010, 2:37 pm December 2, 2010, 2:37 pm
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2010/12/nasa-finds-arsenic-life-form/

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Green Means Go [Today's News Poem, December 1, 2010]

Green Means Go [Today's News Poem, December 1, 2010]

Antigen quivered: it spoke with the neon,
Tickered electric predictions and toppled
Redwood and quarry alike and made money.
Antibody drives a Ferrari of green,
Racing the Buchanans and Gatsbys to see
Front row execution—as headsmen recruits.
Viruses wait in the perfume of lines,
Eating while waiting—a lifetime in line;
Birthing and living and dying in line.
Somewhere a person is digging a catacomb
Fit for a family, fit for eternity;
Shoved underground by a bumper—a eulogy
Written with leftover innards—inverted,
Sapped—not forgotten: erased upon impact.

"State Department spokesman P.J. Crowley called WikiLeaks founder and editor-in-chief Julian Assange an "anarchist.""
—CNN Wire Staff, December 1, 2010 9:04 p.m. EST
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/12/01/wikileaks/



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I Flunked The Solipsism Final [Today's News Poem, November 30, 2010]

I Flunked The Solipsism Final [Today's News Poem, November 30, 2010]

I almost jumped the dorm to prove my body's form
Was weaker than conviction.
I screamed at vodka swirls—a room of flirty girls.
I tried to teach them solipsism
Was more than acid trips or subtle bait for lips.
I'd die a virgin king like Jesus Christos
And scare them off the booze forever, while I'd lose
The life I swore I would destroy to prove the theory:
Nothing's real but mind itself. And life? Unkind
And dream, with spirits feigning human feeling.
Stronger than a will to live, I jumped the sill.
"I want to die," I kept repeating.
Angels never look at those they've cursed with books
And never stay the slaughter.
Those daughters wanted husbands, not a man:
They left me where I'd surely leap my faith
To death to prove exactly nothingness.
You pulled me off the fourth floor precipice
And wiped the vomit off my face—you used your shirt.
"I want to die," I kept repeating. "So do I,"
You said, "but don't."

"A student armed with a handgun held 23 other students and a teacher hostage for several hours on Monday before shooting himself at a high school in Marinette, Wis., which borders the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, the authorities said."
—MONICA DAVEY, The New York Times, November 29, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/30/us/30hostage.html

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There's Always A Crisis [Today's News Poem, November 29, 2010]

There's Always A Crisis [Today's News Poem, November 29, 2010]

An act of desperation bought my new configuration—
For everything of value's squared and held by minor screws.
The cubicle and keyboard—this is comfort? My reward?
I've typed a million words; but banked upon the written turd.
I'm office-bound, it's hip I've heard. With every single clip
I'm squared: to write a million memos, squared to make the billions.
And even cat resents my office chair—he yowls, presents
His ass then stalks away to pout. I tell him of the sway
Of bills and anyhow, our time is borrowed. If I plow
That others might appreciate; that funds appreciate,
To take the edge off life for those who can't imagine strife or
That someone somewhere lives inside a square, with messy hair,
A cat who likes to whine; I only work to keep the fine:
Some books, a cat, my pride is worth a sacrifice inside
A cargo box, a banker's box, a pox! This world's a pox!

"Why are consumers and businesses not spending? Everyone is haunted by the crisis of 2008."
—Fareed Zakaria, The Washington Post, Monday, November 29, 2010
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/28/AR2010112803660.html

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Ignorant Self [Today's News Poem, November 28, 2010]

Ignorant Self [Today's News Poem, November 28, 2010]

Secrecy revises the whole meaning of vision itself.
Activates itself. If it surprises itself, then the clay
Made up of the darkness where the self is most fungible plays
Versions of the innermost of selves and the masks on the shelf
Masquerade as self. Deniability: plausible, not...
Who can say they truly know themselves when the wardrobe of mind
Changes all the costumes on the characters? Really, who finds
Bearings or the simplest of meanings or feelings in thought?

"The whistle-blowing website WikiLeaks released thousands of sensitive U.S. diplomatic cables on Sunday that include candid views of foreign leaders and blunt assessments of nuclear and terrorist threats."
—Reuters, Sun Nov 28, 2010 7:31pm EST
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE6AR32L20101129

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Eternal Adolescent [Today's News Poem, November 27, 2010]

Eternal Adolescent [Today's News Poem, November 27, 2010]

Raskolnikov stays as a teenager
After Siberia, after he dies;
But first he is old, with a sympathy
Colder than snow, revolution, or guns;
For youth and its ice water arteries.
Feeling that ancient obsession emerge,
His blood makes a slush in the wintertime
Petersburg. Czars reach through catacombs, time;
And link executions, conspiracies,
Soldiers and bodies of course, with alive
And dying Raskolnikov: "Massacres
Bless us with red; it's the color of change,
Of life as it will be, not should be or
Ought to be. Speed up the process a bit
And greatness replaces the sacrifice."

"A Somali-born teenager attempting to detonate what he believed was a car bomb at a packed Christmas tree-lighting ceremony in downtown Portland, Ore., was arrested by the authorities on Friday night. They had spent nearly six months tracking him and setting up a sting operation, officials in Oregon said. "
—LIZ ROBBINS and EDWARD WYATT, The New York Times, November 27, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/us/28portland.html

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It's Stalemate, I Know It [Today's News Poem, November 26, 2010]

It's Stalemate, I Know It [Today's News Poem, November 26, 2010]

Hundreds of millions align in their places; as times may assign to the genius or fool, all the power of greatness, or humble position—depending on whimsy, on flimsy conditions of jealousy (crabs in a bucket, I say). And the goal of these capitols, capital, so forth; is play out the game where the values that vanquished reflections can stretch to the orbits of pleasure. The bodies of ice for example, or ore, or a planetoid fit for a home. By android and cyborg, by modified genes; or by robots (the horror!), they'll bring their religions to space and the culture they manage will change as the science of fiction's enacted—enthusiasts changing the realm of ideas into matter, or lifestyle at least. And if something so wondrous can come to fruition, perhaps in our atoms of fission we'll see our reflection—a creator that frowns, but has kept all the mansions in place for the living: the kings of the planet (and minions). This Heaven's immortal—outlasting the sun—and seductive; resistance is futile, innate. Disaster is nothing, defeat's just a game of the gene or idea; and victory's sweet, so I've heard from the fittest, but tying is lethal. The stalemate, the neutral, the kings on the board all alone with their pawns that can't move—that's the finish I think, and we'll orbit our selves, opposition repelling, attracting—both stalking and stalled by munition.

"It would be easy for investors to assume that Spain – like Greece, Ireland and Portugal, those other fiscal offenders on the fringe of the eurozone – is being punished in the bond markets because its public finances are out of control. Easy, but wrong, according to independent economists, market analysts and senior Spanish officials."
—Victor Mallet, The Financial Times, November 26 2010 20:18
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/1632d946-f994-11df-9e29-00144feab49a.html#axzz16QLxwGRe

"Tension mounted Friday near a South Korean island bombarded this week by North Korea, as the North’s military again fired artillery, this time in what appeared to be a drill on its own territory. "
—MARTIN FACKLER, The New York Times, November 26, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/27/world/asia/27korea.htm

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Bit Actor Kills His Mother [Today's News Poem, November 25, 2010]

Bit Actor Kills His Mother [Today's News Poem, November 25, 2010]

Saying goodbye isn't easy
But has to be finished—I'll start it.
Eight things to do—first I'll thank you
Now thank me. Forgive me. Forgiveness
Isn't excepted! Stop crying!
This wasn't an easy decision.
Even when everything's perfect you
Antagonize—say it! I love you.
Now you must say you reciprocate
The feeling—your child has to beg you?
Life has its stages: we enter
And exit and play in the drama.
Wish me goodbye and I'll wish you the same.

"A bit actor who appeared on ABC's "Ugly Betty" series has been charged with second-degree murder and criminal possession of a weapon after police said they found him wielding a 3-foot long sword near the body of his dead mother."
—Alan Chernoff and Megan Miller, CNN November 24, 2010
http://articles.cnn.com/2010-11-24/justice/new.york.sword.murder_1_brea-apartment-miss-brea-martial-arts?_s=PM:CRIME

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Prescient Poem In Vis A Tergo: Haunted by Juche

North Korea is haunted. http://edition.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/asiapcf/11/25/koreas.maritime.explainer/ News is ephemeral, poetry's perennial.

http://visatergo.wordpress.com/2010/10/20/haunted-by-juche-by-khakjaan-wessington/

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Playground Equilibrium [Today's News Poem, November 24, 2010]

Playground Equilibrium [Today's News Poem, November 24, 2010]

There's balance in see-saws,
Forgiveness in sandboxes.
Carousel tragedy
Is less than memory,
It's less than the freezing fog,
Less than a ghost—or air.
The problem children play
Too roughly, they're going to
Injure each other. The
Eleven year olds gang
To topple the mountains of
Sand that the babies pushed,
And seven year old kids
Start throwing down gravel, then
Rocks on the older boys,
This battle of playground
Forgotten, a memory
Lost in the winter chill.

"Despite the weeks of preparation and media-hyped anticipation, no massive "Opt-Out Day" protests appeared at Boston’s Logan International Airport on Wednesday. Media reports suggest that the scene at other American airports was no different. "
—Elizabeth Fuller, Christian Science Monitor, November 24, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2010/1124/Opt-Out-Day-fizzles-Air-travelers-say-scans-aren-t-a-big-deal

"Tom DeLay, one of the most powerful and divisive Republican lawmakers ever to come out of Texas, was convicted Wednesday of money-laundering charges in a state trial, five years after his indictment here forced him to resign as majority leader in the House of Representatives. "
—JAMES C. McKINLEY Jr., The New York Times, Published: November 24, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/25/us/politics/25delay.html

"With top U.S. officials continuing to declare that help from China will be key in calming tensions between North and South Korea, President Obama is planning to call Chinese President Hu Jintao in the next few days to discuss the critical situation, according to senior administration officials."
—Ed Henry, CNN Senior White House Correspondent, November 24, 2010 8:09 p.m. EST
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/asiapcf/11/24/pol.obama.hu.koreas/

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The Perennial Meaning [Today's News Poem, November 23, 2010]

The Perennial Meaning [Today's News Poem, November 23, 2010]

Goodnight my drowsiness;
Seal off the aperture,
End my awareness:
A little death is all
I ask, but not too much—
An incomplete goodbye.
Victory's wavelength will
Crest and invert and it
Never repeats itself,
Refuses the rhythm,
Recycles the pattern,
Dies, revives back again.

"...the North fired dozens of shells at a South Korean island, killing two of the South’s soldiers... The new clash came just days after an American nuclear scientist who visited North Korea earlier this month said he had been shown a vast new facility built secretly and rapidly to enrich uranium."
—MARK McDONALD, The New York Times, Published: November 23, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/24/world/asia/24korea.html


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Like Gone to Like [Today's News Poem, November 22, 2010]

Like Gone to Like [Today's News Poem, November 22, 2010]

The circle of drowning:
Vein equilibrium.
A fountain of solace:
A symbol, a river!
The patterns of silk:
Blood trends to fluttering.
The lights are electric.
The system is burnt-out.
If scared of the water
Emulate firmament;
Purify, verify; clarify, satisfy—
Enough with the medicine, snuff out the fragrance!

"Australian Sean Ngu: "I was in the park, some 30m away from the bridge. There was lots of noise and celebration cheer. Suddenly the cheer became screams, louder and louder. At first we thought people were celebrating, but the screams were different... Others tried to climb onto the bridge, grabbing and pulling loose cables - electric shocks caused many more deaths... No-one saw one single person coming out of the river - all those people must have drowned. ""
—BBC, 22 November 2010 Last updated at 21:51 ET
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-11814964

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Toys For Crabs [Today's News Poem, November 21, 2010]

Toys For Crabs [Today's News Poem, November 21, 2010]

At three, I thought the motor car
A badge of blithe maturity.
I took a handful, threw my toys:
They bumped against the windy cliff.
At ten, I seized the glider, used
My mind to grip the handles, jumped
And swam in wind that cast me back
To bounce upon the face of land.
My beard's a cradle for my face,
And seagulls mock my fallen mass.
The floating corpses: fishing boats.
The helicopters: seraphim
With bulging bellies, giant heads
That look like blades that chop the sky,
And frame the contrails greater beings
Emit. And somewhere, God itself
Must ride a satellite—a jet
Of gas from godly aft propels
The eye that orbits far above
The foam of taste, the crabs of touch.

"North Korea for the first time showed a visiting American a lab where it claimed to be processing uranium to make atomic weapons, something that, if true, would confirm that it is using a different key ingredient than the one it agreed to stop using under a deal with the U.S. and other countries. "
—EVAN RAMSTAD, The Wall Street Journal, NOVEMBER 21, 2010, 2:55 A.M. ET
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704496104575627740592221262.html

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