In the background Ben Folds croons: "they drop like flies
from the bright sunny skies," and i wonder what Brueghel
would think of the photo on 13A and how many sighs
the daily readers produce until their breathe-fugue will
reach the ears of the new poet laureate. Does Mr. Wright
flash as i do to a statue of mercy in sunny
Philadelphia where the liberty bell takes its toll all right.
And does he sense it as well: that funny
feeling that war has changed venue now
from Dover to Manchester with the enemy
camouflaged in our children's brows.
And how much of the budget will be
allocated to save us from ourselves
and line the library of congress' shelves.
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