truth to power
because you scream
from the redwood pulpit
or the moral high ground
and are ignoredyour whispering campaigns have all failed you,
the fences solid in their minds even though
they're canvas; their imaginary
corrals leaving them trapped
and waiting, necks up, for the prodyour tactic is to be a multitude of faces
a blooming field of color, signs, anger
against the solid uniforms
of delegates and riot policefaces streaming, running out of fogs
of teargas, pepper spray, official fearofficial fear who hides its badge under the riot shield.
your tactic is a photograph
that tells your whole story.your violence is your dark unwanted streak
magnified and ugly, your history
carried with horrified pride.we shut down Seattle, man.
we did it.—12/3/99
and from another side:I have to live here
and I want to cry
when I see what they have done;
what's happened to my beautiful
fragile green city—
our perennial problems
swept away by this
invasion
of the peaceful and the violent
of the powerful and powerless
the cops who are on their 16th hour
and can't tell a protester
from a passerby.(who shoot the retreating)
ah, I breathe.
we—us and the city—are a container.
we are large enough to compass this.
and to breathe out, and blow
these crowds, this anger,
back to wherever it belongs.we are taking in a breath.
preparing for a sigh of relief.—12/3/99
Really, that's about all I have for today. I had a really good night last night, and I'm feeling far more relaxed today because of it. And they just gave us a bit of food here at work, and it's Friday and I have two whole days to enjoy myself in.And I think the car wants to be named Desdemona. Weird, eh?
how goes the war?
I feel like I'm living in a Transmetropolitan issue...only less bloody and without Spider Jerusalem.
