№. 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.