"The petty strut of a peacock without a tail, or old men salaaming for drachma in the city's dust, so much scratching and disturbance of dust... so much strafeing and raping of the holy villages.... 5 Here, year adds on to year, the camel chews as slow. Lifted from the dung fire by a ladder of assasinations, I climbed to kindle the deserted palace steps, and turned my unerring hand to the populace, coaxing to vex my nomad volk towards foam. Oily dollars, 10 skin thin, flutter as bats to the waste horizon returning at motor dawn in the hunched shapes of tanks; sea_anxious to return to the yaw and abyss of the sea, Kuwait halts our monumental, crawling foot and whines for a beach_badge from their simmered verge of sand. 15 I pet a captive's infant before the camera, swill the thick wine of Peace Through Annexation and stoop in my ill_fitting soldier's fatigues to plead or command: Surrender to God, whose white hand works through my hand."
From the collection "Contemporaries"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.