hi-def u.s.a

 

the

forty-fourth

president

of america

fired

 

one

hundred

tomahawk

missiles

 

at libya

this evening.

 

i ate too much

dinner and

watched white

rows of teeth

talk the news.

 

from a

chocolate

davenport,

 

television

heroin

 

washed over

me.

 

my hip has

bothered me

for a month

now.

 

i have an MRI

scheduled for

monday.

 

somewhere

between the

commercials

and the static,

 

the sobriquet

realities we

give to the

images and

the blinding

symphonies

the images

give to us,

 

there is.

 

in the light

in the dark

 

no one ages

gracefully in

high definition.

 

and arab

league

support

on

saturday

evening

was not

so

sunday

morning.

 

sunday

handshakes,

sunday

smiles,

sunday

clothes.

 

the MRI will

reveal bursitis,

the doctor will

suggest an on

site shot of

cortisone, the

pain will leave

me of its own

accord.

 

another decade of

an infinite war

stretches its legs,

makes itself quite

comfortable, in the

guest room of man.

 

i think about that

for a good long

time.

 

then of how

that night,

 

the

moon was

full

and

closer

to the earth

than it had

been in

or

will be

in

twenty years.