And his secret twin Khomeini,
Oversee the cynicism,
The Seven Sisters puppet strings
Jerk the chrome-corrupted nihilists
Like hangman rusted pistons.
They are pelicans, my friend says,
In the ash of October skies,
Do I really want to know
Where they came from, where they go,
What they mean, when they're only there
For my use? She said this kindly.
Why not make a new thing up?
Something no one's ever tried?
Peace in Vanuatu, or Nauru,
Instead of using their bird poop
Wealth to cede their souls to packaged food
Like U.S. Indians to white lightning
To give the men back their fish
And canoes, put the women back in charge
Of the stories and the breadfruit ...
The allure of other people's dreams
Has always been too powerful;
Most beliefs just can't withstand
Any immersion in the void,
The self feels such resistance
Where God lives, strictly inside.
