--traditional memory

today's the day for fallen warriors
 but not the ones they killed, we mourn
the ones who held guns, not
 those who gave bullets a resting place.
 i'm just thankful for a first holiday.

 clouds gather above smoke rising from grills,
 the American celebration
 redolent with burnt offerings.
life prints a portrait of the new
 unknown soldier for every war
that takes enough of the right kinds of lives.
 the kinds that matter, lost
 points on the winning side.
 your brother, just graduated, my niece-adrift
 in unemployment your son, raised to respect
tradition, my son raised to be fodder
 for your gun.
pacifism is a game of loss. no room for that
 in revolution. turn the world
 around again, the sun rising
 in the east.again. revolt
 revolting re volution. how bout a new volution
nuvolution. i hear
 the crows all starve there. i hear
 prisons are empty there
 i hear pipes and drums sing
anthems to fallen forests,the drowned, the lost
 in their minds. i hear it in the  bombs building
 on the horizon in  a derecho. i
hear the tornado of righteousness
 blow through the trailer park of vermin
built in kafka's lair.
 i haven't read it but i hear
 your holy book speaks
 in tongues of GOd and he
 is yours not mine at all . my war is your
  simple extermination
. yes i hear it in my cochlea
 in the ten fingers i wave like flags
 as i drop to the earth of birth,
no longer mine, but yours.