in echoes of faraway silence
in naked stones and sassafras root
and the prick of thistles

it lingers

like the white cries of
Cree spirits to the lumbering Milk River

and an angry sun
on its bruised cornflower canvas of sky
stares at the sad faces of painted pansies
through slanting shafts of grey

wishing

to wash over the dancing dust
of billowing prairie grasses

to softly shower away
the quiet

Let me hide behind my shield
Of innocents and women
should I be killed here it will yield
headlines of condemnation
as planned

For I have corrupted civilians
and co-opted Islam to my cause
I, who shall only know the gates of hell
when justice finds its way to me

I am a true freedom fighter
my purpose to be free
to kill or enslave all
with whom I disagree

My hatred is my only friend
it leaves no room for love
or compassion
or tolerance
and never forgiveness

you ask me to believe
i'm left wondering
about the colour yellow

are women meant to be hidden
behind burqas of black,
or a bluebird's blue?
to disappear
into daylight;
is it for God or the lusts
of men? are not women jewels wherever
we are and whatever we wear?

tell me, is Christianity American
and Judaism Israeli and how did
the two get so entwined in Joseph's coat
of many colours? when was there a time
when Jerusalem was built to be divided?

thusly, I say
it is such as it is
for your sake

fortuitous
whether or not
you sense it
or even care

without this suchness
who knows....?

nothingness or
pods of protoplasm or
sky monkeys on pigback
with lassos twirling inside out
looking for an ungrateful bastard
who lives on ingratitude and weasel vitamins or
who knows...!

this here and now,
our present arbitrariness,
is under-rated by so many

have a closer look
it works pretty good
being a man, I mean