Originally posted last September – but it seems appropriate to repost in light of yesterday’s rant….

Our legions are marching on the
City of Rain, our bleeding
bare feet, bone against concrete,
tearing ruts in the King’s highway.

We remember the lash and the
hole. We remember Babylon
Ballroom, silver trays of cheese and
meats and candy liqueur, the
splay of light tinkling
wine-filled crystal,

and later,

hunched over our books and
tearing at stale bread, we
recite the lessons we
will teach you soon –

there is no difference between

palace and prison,
champagne and hemlock,
chandelier and gallows.

When the revolution comes,
gunfire ripping at the hinges of daybreak,
we will decorate lampposts with your
heads and feed your tongues to corbies.

When the revolution comes,
you will ride pyres of burnished mahogany
unto the roiling skies of Hell.

When the revolution comes,
we will kill you last,
saving you and savoring as you
boil in the dying screams of your

We will pin you to the wall like butterflies,
hang you in the grand gallery
where you will twitch for centuries
among the handbills of kleptocracy:

your economies of fraud,
grifters in the boardroom, jowls
dripping with grease,

your murders of neglect,
sucking the bones of your
feasting tables clean
while abandoned children and stray dogs
fight for scraps
in your alleys
in your roach-ripe tenements
in fields scalding with immigrant despair
in the flesh-caked machines of your factories
in your third worlds
on your oil-soaked beaches
in extinctions that once were forests
aflame with birdsong

in the shadow of church bells
tolling beneath your mansions.

This Do in the Name of Commerce,

we are your shareholders now, flooding down the
Valley of Chrome, like
rose petals and ticker tape and gun oil.


One thought on “Covenant

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