yrself buried beneath
the afternoon sky

beneath the shimmering trees
and the shadows of words

the hills
where they've been worn away

the broken mirror in the
back yard next door

shards of glass reflecting
empty space
and the wind hot and mindless

the water poisoned
and the soil

and the children want to play
and they have to drink
and there is no purer form of gambling
than with the lives of the
people you love

there are no apologies from
the men who dumped the chemicals

no sounds at all but the screams
of young girls raped by soldiers
in countries not worth mentioning
and so no one does

there is nothing less american
than a war with no profits
waiting to be made

there is no greater machine
than the government

how should we begin
destroying it?

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