Buddhist Monk Self-Immolation, Vietnam 1963
Vietnam And Other Wars
binge drinking is a multi-task
and is done by appointment:
on Saturday we party;
poisoned by too much booze,
overcome by a dark corner,
we followed a bouncing ping-pong
ball over the balcony
of the Amityville dormitory
or was it in Iraq
that a plate went through my head
and split my hemis into
double rockers,
and now I’m just a flathead grunt…
my hero was Connie Kalitta
from sulphurous Mount Clemens
but now I can’t even drive.
maybe opium from old Bactria
where we fight our war for
datura botany near Kandahar;
old men and children in the fields
ready to be harvested by
the fire of imprecise drones,
and wedding parties gone
to precocious funerals!
I came home and fell down
upon the beach and lay there
amidst unseen blood
from my hundred-eyed
Argus of wounds…
as transparent as an astragal
of hammered iron panels on
the plaguey windows of your houses!
--
I never wrote about Vietnam before today.
I don't think I'll explain anything.
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