We conjure atoms. Power over unenforceable formidable atoms because. We are afraid. Hiroshima saved many lives reports western history books…well. Tell that to. I am thinking of. A woman still angered over the heat. The radioactive earth and flesh. Why’s she still pissed people would ask as they ask about childhood’s ravage. I did nothing I wasn’t entitled to do. Said the security officer unbuckling uniforms over his daughter. Fear is. What it is. A boomerang. An industry built upon toy handcuffs sadomasochism. An industry. How many lives they say. Say. Epidermal peeling people molting. Chameleons. Say.
I am not a silent poet 
Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
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like repercussions and jazz riffing “l’histoire se répète” and what we’ve learned is that we’ve learned nothing of it. in an as well crystalclear style as emotional capriciocity (following that of what is brought forward in the poem) we (always have experienced) as also see unexpectedly new, stupefying developments – again.
these by man irrepairable changes rotating before us again. and it is all a shrill athmosphere.
this can only be brought forward when the poetess works fromout love, which she always does.
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Good Reuben. I liked the staccato style, obtained by the full stops. Makes it urgent.
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I concur Veronica.
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