July 2, 2014


<i>July 2, 2014</i><br><br><br>


O FICTIVE KINSHIP

by Michael Cooper

what can I lay claim to?  The Who
Steppenwolf, the mighty Led Zeppelin who lifted
from the black delta the appearance of a soul
shrieking, Valhalla, Carcinogens,
my aviation
maintenance wings—what sings
of 100% casualty rate per 26 missions over the European theatre when
we used pressurized hoses to swab the 8th air force out
of their planes—when congressmen who look like me spit
Seussian rhymes
to deliver anti-American dreams—two towers
fall
does not justify the murder of 21,221 insurgents
or 151,000 civilians depending on the census
you choose to follow—and how many distant
brothers and sisters of Abraham lay
face down overnight, ziptied into prayer position?  How
to be
this white man
so angry at angry white men.
Its all of us, we are not wind
up toys
we the co
buyers we
the co
borrowers of
the 725 Tactical load
Tomahawk
missiles shot into Iraq—purchased
at a cost of 1.45 million dollars
a peace—that’s one
billion, eighty seven point
five
million mis-
appropriated dollars used to steal
lives—that could have been
saturated
with kindness and education

I am understand
ably disappointed with my un
representation in a government that supports
unpopular wars  in defenseless
regions of the world.  My government who,
was only happy when it installed two new
(temporary, unnecessary)
suns over a voiceless Japan.
am I un
patriot now.

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