Still
No one can retain a phrase but for so longlike a cherry-burning smokestick
Here holes creep from early junk stages
like a lovestick addicted cherry virgin
burning slowly between the bird wing legs
Here they scratch and peel
Responsibility and guilt are tossed into bloated dump tins
can-bellies full of toxic dollars
and blank news
I'm so angry at the loss of revolution
angry at the boy who did not die on the camera
instead he ran with his hard beaten feet to bushes
where he faded on still ground, with still stones
on an island, some beach with still eyes
and still mouthes
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