Your art makes my skin crawl.
“It is obscene to write poetry
After the holocaust.”
To live in the shadow of genocide
And scribble then, with some slight-of-hand,
Something or other entertaining;
It is a pornography of privilege.
The privilege of those who,
Having survived so far with their bones intact,
Somehow feel that their skin will not melt.
It is obscene, this high art
In this ecocide.
To live in a refuge of concrete and tar
With art as decor,
With music as spectacle
With poetry as lifestyle.
The only thing that is important is your sacrifice.
Florida Bay is silent as a graveyard.
The Indian River Lagoon
Is a lagoon of corpses.
The skin of dead fish
Bulldozed into dumpsters like My Lai
Is not much different than yours.
“A butterfly sucking
On the carcass of a dead bird.
In the center of a flower
Under a deep blue sky
It’s a mistake to think you’re special.”
The only thing that works is your sacrifice.
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My photos are on Flickr