Thursday, April 19, 2007

Grindhouse: The Poem


What the axe fails to sever, we never forget
to blow away forever. Ready, aim, fire
& they drop like birds from a wire. Time

to clean up the mess now, high time
to ask ourselves, Why so violent? Unforget
the past & you’ll remember: the great fire

& the manner in which we acquired these fier-
y one-track minds. Those were good times
when anything we wanted, we were sure to get.

Forget about the fire & it burns you in time.