I am not immune, I am not alone, I can write a line
and not worry
about the ones I may have forgotten.
I am part of the atmosphere, part of the great wealth
that happens when we’re not looking.
He’s a crook! A flim-flam man! And I’ll be damned
wasn’t telling the truth (but you can rehire
Elliot Abrams). The American night
has soiled itself, and indispensable white men
are as truculent as ever. But did you see that freshman class
in the front row
bringing the heat?! Ocasio-Cortez, Ayanna Pressley, Rashida Tlaib –
you are our dream! Those who think progressives are pandering
need to take another look (at that great shit-stained American night)
the fuck we have to lose It’s whatever
quietly subverts the public – perhaps, like the gains
of the civil rights movement left to be reflected
and played out
in and through a market system
flushed of any short or long term memory.
Until – faced with nothing
but this face value – we are inoculated
into a reality – a collective amnesia, autoimmune
reaction to grief, lost of each other – girded, now, only to individual survival,
and thinking it’s okay! An opiate of the masses, hypnotism of the public square –
Then we awaken
from the beast, realizing
they’ve been deflecting the onus. This was never our individual responsibility,
we’ve just been confessing
our entire lives.