Today we drop
our depressing loads,
crave the world's edge.

Even here we find the climb hard,
every comforting illusion
revealed and now gone.

Pink granite tries hiding
its gravelly complexion
beneath a pallid lichen facade.

I sit high above
slice and dice shale,
watch a circling hawk,

See glass towers explode and collapse.
The forbidden apple hits bottom,
ignorant innocence dies.

Tangled kelp
washes across far sands,
dead tresses on a white brow.

Three arrogant jets
emerge from a cypress horizon,
rip pristine Point Lobos skies.

Stiff rattlesnake grass
hisses against my passing legs,
drops a silent, lethal barrage.

Desert Slaughter Redux

"Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to greater danger."-Herman Goering at the Nuremberg Trials

The banner reads Killing People
Is the Problem Not the Solution.

Globally, millions march,
crying Not In Our Name.

Despite the absence of damning evidence,
inflamed fools who stand to profit, cry for war and revenge.

It's good for the economy, they say
as local schools sink even further in debt.

During last decade's massacre, armored earth movers
trenched and buried thousands, both living and dead.

Cheney and Powell strangle truth,
erase every drop of blood before the stain sets

I enjoyed it, one private in the battalion
of military engineers boasted.

Somewhere in America,
a conscience measures code red.

Jennifer Lagier