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
The body of a policeman is wheeled into a hospital morgue after he was killed by a roadside bomb in Baghdad, October 23, 2006.
(Kareem Raheem/Reuters)
Cut Off the Ears of Winter
by Peter Covino
Cut off the ears of winter
they have overheard too much,
where incinerators burn,
where rubble-strewn streets
are covered in dust from the remodeling.
Again, the doe-man in mauve cashmere–
the nerve of him–in the never world
(where ashes are harvested) where
ashes rain down in glory, a jackpot
of answers. Tonight, the underwriting
of desire is an inky carbon copy.
I have already–that last time drunk
on scotch. Then all morning
a chain gang of transvestite prostitutes
litters the front yard–the Police Station
next door also on fire, burning,
burning handcuffs, the soles of shoes
not holding the earth, cars skidding
everywhere, the tire’s frame sets sparks
along the road. This is my last dollar,
last cigarette, last match.
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