PANTOUM BY BOB KAUFMAN
America, I forgive you
eating black children. I know
your ancestor had beautiful thoughts in his brain.
His descendants are experts in
eating black children. I know
history is the only diary God keeps.
His descendants are experts in
burning Japanese babies, defensively.
History is the only diary. God keeps
the great American windmill tilting at itself,
burning Japanese babies defensively.
My eye leaks, dripping sight all over my collar.
The great American windmill, tilting at itself.
The last buffalo will be torpedoed by an atomic submarine.
My eye leaks, dripping sight all over my collar.
I want to expose heaven.
The last buffalo will be torpedoed by an atomic submarine
transporting children’s remains.
I want to expose heaven,
an exclusive sanitarium filled with rich psychopaths.
Transporting children’s remains,
the president has translucent worms in his brain,
an exclusive sanitarium filled with rich psychopaths
mad at him because he’s one of “them”.
The president has translucent worms in his brain,
inviting the nerveless to feel
mad at him. Because he’s one of them.
One thousand saxophones infiltrate the city, each
inviting the nerveless to feel.
When I think of all the girls I never made love to,
one thousand saxophones infiltrate the city, each
with a man inside.
When I think of all the girls I never made love to,
they elect me president. I hide
with a man inside
my head. It falls off.
They elect me president. I hide
as Cassandra dances on
my head. It falls off
to feel once more that fierce dying.
As Cassandra dances on
Hiroshima’s children–send them back!
to feel once more that fierce dying–
Five generals gathered in the gallery, blowing.
Hiroshima’s children send them back.
Your ancestor had beautiful thoughts in his brain:
Five generals, gathered in the gallery, blowing
America. I forgive you.
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RICHARD PRINS is a New Yorker who sometimes lives in Dar es Salaam. He received his MFA degree in poetry from New York University. His poems appear in Los Angeles Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, Rattle, Redivider and THRUSH Poetry Journal.
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Read more by Richard Prins:
One poem at Rattle
Poem at Painted Bride Quarterly
Richard Prins’ Author Website