faced with thinning hair
and constant reminders of time's
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
hunger for peace in the sleep
from wrung minds
eons of similar slogans and tearing nails
driving green generation s into
groveling prayers and cathartic supplication
from whence do these come and
to where will we go?
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