Night

1

Property is death: they had aBody crammed in a mailbox andIt was just a blue suit withBones sticking out:

2

“Just    Say missiles,    Just        Say drones”

3

she said, she said joy, she said voice,blue-green voice; she said violet, bluewind pushes, river light, birches, shesaid,

4

your stain of faded storm light in my mouth:heartland, methland: over the river andthrough the woods: I’m writing inside death,I’m in the room—”we made this sky ofdrones to eat your eyes”—”the sky is money,privatize the sky”—angel, say angel, yourocean dies,

5

        we’re all dead, he says,        so, yes, joy, the lostone, the sweet fool, and fathers lost inblowing snow, and mothers lost in blowingleaves, when the soul opens, there will bea cheap hotel: dead face, open mouth, deadface: the first snow and wrapping paper:

6

we become dark matter, it has to be that,she said, she told me, she promised—keptsaying it has to be—no getting out of theuniverse—we have to be something—            he’s                        crying            (God)                        “home”—

7

        revolution:everything        means youin that        dying:        what isyour face—        what youthrew out—

8

more songs, more flame, more strange bluelight, your ocean dies, and Google owns thelight inside your eyes—democracy is resourcewars, democracy is buying—(“clean coal” atemy face)

9

“Just        Say missiles,        Just            Say drones”