faced with thinning hair

and constant reminders of time's

rhythmic metate,

night day night day night day

the body of a loved one thrown

from birth into a furnace

the oven of the consuming fever-

death, the constant white-hot fever

life, the alienation of those whose

feelings are torn from the potency

of self to be forgotten.

Christ the tiger

schooled by mystics and a new father

dragged asunder by a frightened class,

though power would be theirs for only

a few more years)

the intervening years have only served as

place-mats for their progeny.

throats made raw by the oven and consuming fever

no manna from heaven. no rain from on high

slakened thirst found only in the

hallowed grave

hunger for peace in the sleep

from wrung minds

eons of similar slogans and tearing nails

driving green generation s into

self-pronounced frenzy

groveling prayers and cathartic supplication

from whence do these come and

to where will we go?