Tuesday, July 7, 2009

summit up

@twitter won’t fly in Russia,
land of vacuum tubes and vodka.
So steam your press pool
A headline sets in lead:
Talking Titans in Podium Flash
Compare Diminishing Warheads
Total throw-weight crash.

Monday, July 6, 2009

match point

White satin track suit
garlanded gold—
no sweat
beading his head—
our hero cocks
a cool eyebrow
at the loser (confused, staring
into the grass, into
the chalky distance),
who only just a minute ago
was giving not quite
as good as he got.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

crown of gold, cross of platinum

“It is finished,”
He must have said
—the fool who felt himself
a boy and crowned himself
expiring alone
in the company of
His Personal Physician.
But all is not lost,
o mourning masses.
The coke-High Priests light candles,
give thanks that He died
—ascending the charts—
so that you may buy
a piece of history and
they may dwell forever
and ever
among the canyons.

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