Doug Draime

After A Strange Conversation With
A Member Of Congress

You give me your schedule and
I’ll give you mine and we’ll stand
on the hill overlooking the concentration
camp. You born without feet
under the American flag in
your child molesting grandfather’s
house in east Jersey: hair like
insane human meat shrieking
in the hell of pity. The shadows
dank, reeking
of the history of other
feet less souls.
You say you’ve read Kafka and the Bible,
and walked on burning coals.
t’s a way to cope,
lying to yourself
But everybody knows
you ain’t got no feet.

This poem was first published in Angelflesh # 9, 1998.

 

 

Nonpolitical Poetry

The thing abut
poetry is you can
say anything you
damn well please
in any way
you please
you can say fuck this
political system
you can say anyone
who at this
point in time
that does not think
the american way
of life is dead wrong
is a sad and lost soul
you may think this is a
political statement
but you’re dead wrong too
‘cause this is about as
nonpolitical
as it gets

This poem was first published in The 3rd Page, an online 'zine  in 2003.

 

 

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