In the dunes the bullets fly,
and a bunker’s grease pans are empty.
It’s the loose straw where he’s lain
an effigy for the soul’s stain,
set on fire in town square,
what strange verse is this
contained in this yell to give the voiceless
a trumpet to their suffering,
Jericho, so ancient, so present, the lust
for mere choice,
broadcast topics and a house is built.
Out of meaning, the lego sets
with the lasers. Sure the war is always on.
A generation of men must be
sacrificed for the next, you see
this is the way of the world
as it was told to me.
If only speakers had an eschatology,
but I suppose this is the philosophy
of reverberation.
