02.13.2008

White Tower (by Jeff Clark, from his book Music and Suicide)

We can burn it
It’s infected
fields, records, our fruit
water, mosques, it casts inordinate shadow
I have a lighter, you have fuel
Hatefully designed, well-defended, it kills, sells
We won’t try to climb, we douse
the perimeter, flood the subfloors with fuel
We drench the lobby
White tower that sodomizes the horizons

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