Democracy does/not—
(Ask Solzhenitsyn, tell Sharansky)

History did/not—
(Query Colin Powell, buy a vowel
from Vanna)

Truth, O really?
(Jaspers will elucidate
when Russell can’t type)

No-thing, ever—
(Mary’s pride
by the words of John)

I will—soon
(Mandelstahm, Babe…).


The gentle brave of this bloc,
holy-precise in representing

a vagueness,
don’t know how to walk

their grace reflects

confusion on corners at
the center

crawling in grass hoping
for penance,

dismissed, understanding
suffering in mind.


After muscles there is
no muscle for use—

true for labor, true of law,

true of the loved one

kvetching lively flaw—

freaky ostentations forced
once natural law,

come Monday, come Thursday,

and evenings before the torn
off weakened.