Letter from little boy Bush

oh, Dude. I mean Dad.
Evasive pastry. You made me a pimp. 
I was just a tiny boy,
dumped in the garbage dump of your confederacy
the ship of breaking & entering
our Nation of Love,
with your throb-rag wife & her villanous servants.
Now there's nothing left of my asshole
Dude. I mean Dad. 
Or else I'm looking for it,
the hole through which my thoughts and feelings flow. 

Disgust sticks to the strangest places. 
A black wave went through my arm
battering the North Shore
tiny surfer. 
One finger dropped off, it's lost in the sewer.
You get the truth because you're my father. 

If I had the freedom to make structures visible...
I'd see you again. yeah.
When my street brother returned 
from the dead, 
Climbing skeletal rungs 
I said, "Welcome to the Presidential Palace.

each good
building
proposes a perfect
world."


camille roy