Photo by Rosanna Gaddoni / Unsplash

American Vision

Poetry Sep 2, 2023

by Kyle DeValk

I cannot force you to listen I can only cryout
   I can only show you the IMAGES OF WORDS,

typing an anccient skeleton manifesto—
   of GRAVEYARD POETS tied to barstools
   tied to the breath of poetry
   tired to lonely tenderness,

chanting and howling mantras under the darkness—
   of moon soaked amphetamine nights,

dancing with sunflowers pounding at the alter—
   of wet mud skyscrapers,

I watched death in war,
I watched industry eating nature,

I watched the manic Pacific kiss the sun drenched

I watched the tragic suicides of endless rivers,

I watched the orgasm of wild flowers
   the sweet relase of nature the perennial—
   intoxication of oak trees rooted and groaning
   in oceans of concrete,

I watched the naked limbs of nature expose—
   themselves to the vastness of eternity,

I watched ghosts blossom in the collective
   consciousness of stars,

I watched constellations swallow galaxies,

I watched the sun sink into the reflection of—
   Earths gentle urban eyes,

I watched the nuclear fog rise over the vastness
   of intolerant mountain peaks,

I watched flies feast on the intestines of
   the universes golden heart,

I watched the snow devour the flesh of—
   the cement spine of the midwest,

I watched the stomach of the rootbelly boil
   in the empty pockets of desolate sand dune
   covered deserts,

I watched the seasons die everything come to an
   buried in unmarked cycles of desperate doomed
decay and alluring unholy GODLIKE tourture—
   so tolerant of its own failure
   so tolerant of its own brilliant suffering