this diary is dedicated to all who suffer because of war
we love and support our troops, just as we love and support the Iraqi people – without exception, or precondition, or judgment.
image and poem below the fold
A blindfolded man sits with other detainees at the compound of a police station in Kerbala, 110 km (70 miles) south of Baghdad, October 25, 2006. About 52 members of criminal gangs were arrested during raids in different areas in Kerbala, a police officer said.
REUTERS/Mushtaq Muhammad (IRAQ)
by Liam Rector
Dressed in an old coat I lumber
Down a street in the East Village, time itself
Whistling up my ass and looking to punish me
For all the undone business I have walked away from,
And I think I might have stayed
In that last tower by the ocean,
The one I built with my hands and furnished
Using funds which came to me at nightfall,in a windfall….
Just ahead of me, under the telephone wires
On this long lane of troubles, I notice a gathering
Of viciously insane criminals I’ll have to pass
Getting to the end of this long block in eternity.
There’s nothing between us. Good
I look so dangerous in this coat.
– – –