№. 1 — January 24, 2017

America, how did you get stuck at the top of the tallest building on the block?

Yes, it is a lovely penthouse, but the place is still on fire.

No, no, no one else I know needs a ladder so tall, congratulations

Firefighters can also vote with their pocketbooks.

Gathered in the street we share stories about what we used to be.

I used to write poems

Oh, like the old timey ones that rhyme? I love those

No, like Allen Ginsberg

I didn’t know anyone still liked that hippy bullshit

What do we do now, America? How do we resist?

You write, you stupid fucks; you write poems and you howl like a fire in the sky.