Monday, April 12, 2004
lost prayer for lasting
there is little faith left
in white american men—
those who approximate machines,
clean, polished, sunglasses, blue jeans.
they show new teeth in fast cars,
they swing cynical to sarcastic.
but one can only pose
with an electric guitar for so long.
he who connotes years with theme parks,
whose hopes are listed in history books,
who has always known the answer
before the question, blaming
making educated rape able
and available to laugh at everything,
as if believing was being
suffers time to grow a confidence
to smirk from inside coffins.
we laugh as john henry dies—
as the cord that carries
him out-paces the sound,
leaving us to smirk,
scratch our necks: find
a broken lace, our crucifixion
displaced
in white american men—
those who approximate machines,
clean, polished, sunglasses, blue jeans.
they show new teeth in fast cars,
they swing cynical to sarcastic.
but one can only pose
with an electric guitar for so long.
he who connotes years with theme parks,
whose hopes are listed in history books,
who has always known the answer
before the question, blaming
making educated rape able
and available to laugh at everything,
as if believing was being
suffers time to grow a confidence
to smirk from inside coffins.
we laugh as john henry dies—
as the cord that carries
him out-paces the sound,
leaving us to smirk,
scratch our necks: find
a broken lace, our crucifixion
displaced
