Ballad of an Ex-Patriot
we have watched our leaders die.
you
my america war torn open gaping wound
you
like your heroes bleeding, broken machines
I can still taste
your poverty, hunger, screaming in the mouth
as fear
Interrupts skylines,lifetimes
with factories, prisons,
The border: An effort to make emperors of lesser men
and slaves of all the rest
and you
of pain inflicted passively-
we have have witnessed infinite suffering
passively-
men,women born
of earth and sky falling,
becoming slaves in fields
blistering, burning under the sun
men, women growing...still like the ocotillo
and like the ocotillo
I stood naked, incomplete
under layers of winter
my hands growing...cold beneath his clothes seeking out
your cities, desert bleeding highways
cutting through valleys,stripmalls
The Inland Empire
and you
smog and salt now seasons away
I can still taste your revolution,
vision of working men,women flooding,fleeing
The land they have cultivated for years
of wealthy men lying,dying in the beds
they have made of our tears
A revolution of you, your skin against mine
you, my america, dreaming, dissident gaping wound
you
left me bleeding, mourning,
you,
for an eternity I would rather suffer,
Feel your absence
than for a moment
return and find
you
feeling
nothing-
Addio