AN UNREASONABLE CONVERSATION IN TWO VOICES

Voice 1: Sometimes the sky reminds me
of the buckeye's leaf molt in summer,
when the sun burns like friendly fire.

It doesn't matter if logic
is a theory of structure,
or the color of a successful bombing.

No I won't, I mean I can't. It's too late.
It's not going to be all right
if Republican cross-dressers
take both sides of the argument.

Right brain, wrong brain,
like Army intelligence.
It's going to be all right, or all wrong,
depending upon which gutter.

Voice 2: It doesn't matter
if friendly fire burns
the leaves off trees,
or if our own smart bombs
can't tell whose side is whose.

Look all you gotta do is read a little song.
Say a little poem, speak a few reasonable words.
And all will be forgiven. Didacticism aside.

Relax, who's taking the right
angle approach?  Right angel?
Just tell the right brain to shut up,
turn it off. Turn it off, I say.
This isn't going to hurt at all, trust me.

Arm my intelligence?
I have seen the sky at sunset
seeking the sun as if all that fire
was a song for the eye's mind.
Right or left, it's you approach it.
Maybe reproach it.
Did the bomber feel remorse?
Now, there's an odd idea
of successful bombing.

Why take both sides of the argument?
It's too late for Kuwait.
If I was a duodong, the sea's betrayal of sky,
burning. Which side are you on?

Name rank and serial number
says God, who side are you on anyway?
Carpet bombing in Iraq.
We keep coming back to a gulf of words.

Voice 1: What's left at the end
will survive us.
That's the structural approach.
To broach the subject with reproach.
Take two step poems
and call me in the morning.

Why say it's going to be all right?
It's never too late to send the dumb bombs
to training camp so they'll know
which side they're on.

Don't you know. Might is right
with God on our side.
Tulip patterns in the Koran
a whirlpool of fire flowers
blossoming in the Gulf.

9/21 or 22/1996