BUSH BABIES

III. Iraq/Katrina Collidoscope

Angry dark air, pinkandoranging outside, banners in on HEADLINES of tragedy-war-genocide. In Arthur MacArthur’s granite shade (his slow gray empire sword picketed by peacenik pigeons) old plaid men playchessplaychessplaychess for their lives. Stability checks liberty bleeding, justice dies en passant.

And HEADLINE’s black arts wrestle my gentled soul to earth. But then enter golden wonder sun’s Blue Commandos, infiltrating the park even as new mozzarella tourists wander cluelessly in. And teeter-totter boombox juniors skitter zigzag across old decorums, untutored yet in the long division between war games and their play (these innocent! alien alike to criticism and discipline). And improvised ivory and emerald and ruby and amethyst and sapphire devices explode explode along the green, and

HEADLINE, distracted, loses its hold. O, inconsolable morning: captured by its own good looks.

--Duane Vorhees