Tuesday, January 22, 2008

O'Hare 3.


Hello all, here is the third audio poem in the series of the O'Hare poems. Technical difficulties be damned. Also, fuck the McDonald's in that airport. We all wanted the breakfast so bad and we were all just five minutes late.


3.

I am trying my best

to obtain information

about the death

of our lord.

was he around when I was born?

was he a sandal-faced

gypsy?

I sit in an airport

surrounded by

two million refugees

with hanged mouths

and circled eyes.

they tell me

about the void in

the tarmac.

we’ll sink;

you can't be saved.

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