James Grabill  
   
 
       
       

Celebration in a Time of Empire

Flares and bombs comet through neighborhoods.
Iron-blooded dogs hungry for flesh can't be seen.

Jacked-up serious trucks work an open haul,
the lung of midnight carbon on an unclear planet.

Screechers sail, as fizzling foaming candles
pump out their incendiary spermatozoa
for camouflage of candor and panic,
as ocean fish drift toward more illness,
the mercury spreading, tinctures sinking
in the mouth of the soaked river.

The beered-up are shouting,
someone shrill is squealing,
when the massive Ferris wheel
rips them down under.

The honor of forgotten moral lines
unnecessarily dissolves.
A found man in a parka
walks slow-motion with the crowd,
teenagers mocking, the conquistador bus
sharpening a Pacific corner.

       
       
       
 
   
     
 
 
       
  Copyright © 2007 Pemmican Press and the author/artist represented.