Knar Gavin, Philadelphia
says this, my gobbler nation,
I, AMERICA, MER OF ICE-NOMOAR
AM ERA OF CALAMITY
AM ARIA OF BROKEN HINGE.
& GONE FULL
DESTROYER TO REACH
EACH & HIM OR HER OWN.
FUGUE OF THE FEW & FEWER.
you, citizen, are a mere cutout.
i am most holy & without need of you.
the dream drum is ruptured.
an ear through with hearing.
i am america, all ears of corn & starch-ornery.
i am preparing my arsenal against your marches.
i am weaponing into the Anthropocene.
loading the rivers with forever toxins.
overflowing my banks with monopoly money.
my arterials are designed to survive nuclear attack.
a state un-personed yet full with paths, forked and forking.
i was ready for the end of the world in 1945.
my poetics are atomic. are autonomous.
are the raison d’être for your automobiles.
my gut is swole. i smoothe your soles
& send you wild-chasing after
disinformation, & misinformation.
i bed you with lies.
lap you with my lion tongue.
am a kingdom full with smaller kingdoms
when the lamb came to lay with me i ate him belly first,
saving not a chop for wolf or fly. certainly not for my hungrier cities.
i will replace the sky’s tenants
with machines of all sizes.
take your earth & your under-earth
& your overearth. boil your roiling seas.
i am broad-stuffed & marching to my own tune,
tectonic decibels screaming with the pounds
from these im/possible feet.
ritualized toxicities & limbs limp in my maw.
my liberty bell is not all that is cracked.
my innerface is mere interface.
should you grab my handle it will break off.
& says my Citizen:
EMPIRE, UMPIRE OF BATS & brutal balls, biggest:
READ ME MY WRONGS & FREEDOM WRUNG.
[read me my wrongs because Juridico is the largest country,
by & of the original gobbler ready with its ropes and lashings]
i have been given my national assurance:
free & dumb as a bloody bird is how i will have my foul snack.
oh america, largest machine of corporate speak,
corpse libations flood your guzzle-wide chambers.
& likewise gun chambers, diffuse orchestras of done & drone.
america, my citizen can longer be what is throng with you.
such a condition — like so many — is insufficient.
my throng is a rush of run-off & run-through.
nation of parking lots & automobiles,
you know only speed & tumble.
i dream of you tearing through the last wood.
razing every last tree. using palm oil as gargle.
america, i’ve seen your dreams
cut a person into endless halves,
scene of the division soaked.
vapor eyes cloud thick
& the oh-zone is outlawed
why just this shortest wick, the quicker thrill?
why this brutal domination?
in this arc Hive of globalizing fever
we breed drones of all sizes,
messengers of an un-worlding
sting & stung.