RED LINE
There's a moving Earth where they place the
borders - the red line that moves where it will.
Amassed, lightning bug style, minions stand by.
If we have arms, then we arm ourselves : some
straitlaced logic of a God and all his Michaels,
winged archangels with fiery swords, whatever.
I watch the Gaza traffic as it sings. There are
hardly any manners here; everything is stealth.
Over the high-aimed sky two new angels
are falling : it is that time of year again when
those in the know claim they are part of the
real Creation, and those on the make claim
to be making their break - a God-given right
of the favorite son. I never see the difference.
To me, all the Universe is one.
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