OF HUMAN PROGRESS
(After W. W. II)
The way to Paradise is by gathering up the plumes
that fall (from there) & pinning your hope on wings:
I ask a Pole, a German, an Italian--"Why aren't you dead?"
They can't tell me (it's too much for them, too deep, way-
over their heads): They stare at me as if I were insane.
Georgy Porgy (looney toon)
got up from bed one day in June
and started walking to the moon
At once Th'looping Smoke-Curl of Man's fire appeared (to dis-
appear)/while Th'metallic Hints of the world's (so sought Madison
Avenue (attires) of dawning) Authenticities, or sinking Line (Titan-
ic) its Sky Realities: remained behind like Patchwork stinking
fragrances of Steel Man walked from morning until noon
and got as far as a saloon
where he drank water with a spoon
at the very Depths of human progress, where I asked a Spaniard,
a Russian--"Why aren't you dead?" They didn't want to hear
(of it). They have not learned enough about death, when
finally: our Organizational Efficiency had reached Such Heights
that the Central American Dictator had left nothing at all
(to the peasants) except a donkey or so per man:
the government study finally came up with The Ultimate
revenue-enhancement Plan: a Government-sponsored, government-
supervised, government-run TV Game Show promising A Chance (in
a billion at a Million) & they called it Th'birth of The
You Bet Your Ass Institution (mandatory participation, of course)
Man walked & walked, and pretty soon
he'd gone as far as Th'Half (moon)
--But when he saw There he had goone:
He screamed aloud! (Though None could hear
since Moon ain't got no atmosphere)
Yet, funny thing, every Jew I asked, "Why are you not dead?"
Every last single one of them could tell me The Exact Reason
(every story unique & personal, filled with a wealth of detail!)
No hesitation... We rowed in Backwards O widest Advanced
with thin & depleted Arms--but finally sank to The Seas of rubbled
ruins (which made us SEE with it, thinking upon Th'Waste!)
passing like so worthy a train: Fate The Magnanimous, thusly
continually spilled & scattered by Th'rounding motions of
stilled rain: Frozen Human Achievement, with all of its dusky
Show of Monstrous & cosmetic Craft (tears faded under snow)
then up! Man whistled down a tune
and Home returned: a popped balloon
(but told nobody what he'd doone
for fear they'd call'im a baboon)
Instead, he said "O one small step for (a) man, One
giant Step for mankind" ... You'll never get much
(out of him), that Huddled Oneness
--THIS IS A WARNING: "Stan is Satan! who
disguised himself as The Victim (of your
If I didn't do it, then somebody else
would sonnavabitcheries)
O Man!
... and facilitates
our self-damnation by providing us with
as easy a victim as He can, be it himself
... Stan is Satan! Look for it, my man."
"Not one single German was to blame:
The Jews themselves built the gas chambers,
they themselves built the crematories, they themselves
ran it--the SS officers only stood watch, they were there
just only for holiday or to study the phenomenon: the Jews
gassed themselves..." Thank God The War came when it did
& not six months later
... I mean, would you go on a cruise
in a ship named "The Absolutely Impossible-To-Sink
God-Be-Damned Titanic!?"
... Morning itself suspended
& forever stilled--though never yet killed--is Day!
... this Poem will mean nothing to most everyone--But
there will eventually be A One who will (instantly)
know what I'm talking about
--And that ONE,
whomever (he or she), that One means ALL to me