Prelude to an American Prophecy
You, too, have done God’s work: on these shores
Pluto’s rude influence has become apparent,
and how the face is twisted by the bought mouth.
Your grandparents recounted the deeds of the mighty,
but their strength was called the Spirit of the Age
and virtue was cast out of earth into the heavens.
The fierce were drained by work day and night,
and sketches and fables governed them.
The hunter bowed to the gambler,
what the will reached for the priests removed.
Desire spread her thighs to Capital,
money rubbed genitals raw. Women conceived respect
but did not bear it. Earth and sun’s intercourse
became barren; flavor and weight vanished from food.
But the children are troubled in your sleep.
When morning comes, they will wake mad,
and half-remembered dreams will drive them from your homes
to pull down the statues of Jesus, Washington and King;
and Jesus, Washington and King will descend
to serve them. The meek will claim their claws.
The lamb shall lap the lion’s blood,
and a hungry child shall lead them.
Free association of ideas. The title came last. I think this is probably a very bad poem.