National Soil

This nation who won't take dimes

But walking the street is a dollar (eighty-five)

Can't yank a hanger without a woman

taking the kill — Can't live off the land

(like white triangles can), as easy as 

a needle in (Jacksonville?)

Leviticus has taken the hand of state —

"Boy, haven't you heard?" I screamed 

into the catacombs; (see, we don't 

let the antiques carry the weight). 

Commander of dust, better than

a broken wall — our money went where? 

"Boy, at least we didn't fall!" screamed the 

gavel; (see we forget the bullets under

those duty boots) walking over necks 

and doorframes — weren't they 

supposed to breathe? But forget

Cinnamon men with the Chapman 

number fours — take a timeout 

by the power plant, raggedy layman

bore (tell 'em to take the family too) 

Step outta the way, I'll miss my shot —

the grass is greener when you're paying

for the lot — Above the fold news,

"Boy, haven't you heard?" the inside 

scoop about why children go blind 

I heard the blue pills are at it again,

"Boy, they've crossed the line!"

A line drawn many years ago across

a small red divide — I can taste it now —

the blood of labor, Jekyll, and Hyde