This ancient alley urges eyes aloft
sky so clear, a canvas for these symbols;
Overhead a hungry urban hawk
gains height, advantage, settling
on the apex of a steeple,
alites upon a crossbar, crucifix,
driven to defile a dove, a pigeon.
The Moon attempts to hide
slipping like a coin into a sleeve,
fails long before the slide
a more than ample target which can't leave.
In the wake of the computer coup
this monarchy has fighters in the air,
their vapor trails are sick geometry
(Ansel Adams named "sky worms")
they stream at angles swelling fearlessly,
gloved and antiseptic hands
of the video game pugnacious pilots
nearly crossing two Z's.
Der Homeland Security
inoculates the Forces and police.
We others, a pox on all our houses,
no taxes our way are released
nor concerns or objections.
We'll wander till we cease.
with its honest death.
War is coming
and they'll call it peace.
"Happy people have no history" - French Proverb
[This message has been edited by RSWells (11-26-2002 08:44 PM).]