Sam Pereira

Thinking of Mayakovsky during the Days of the Little Napoleon, Putin, While the Wind Cries Mary

It’s madness being kissed

By a bat who claims

To have been given answers

In the middle of its radar last night

The kiss slowly seeps

Into the bloodstream

And I begin thinking

How Mayakovsky

Came to his revelations

About this particularly

Russian way of death

And how the bat

Disguised as a gun

Slipped into his room to scream

Live Update on the War

It was as plain as white on white

A sterile room filled with nurses

Holding band-aids to the sun

One kid after another

Plowing the proof under

In all of this a grand arsenal

Of cigarettes and tanks

Fueled by the obvious

Carbon dating of the wasted young

Any old fuck can tell the story

Of the dead at the end

next

table of contents