bullets over broadway and bombs over columbine

i thumb through the
paper like most average
americans just trying not
to get blood on
my hands as children
huddle up in some
colorado park waiting to
be let back into

newsprint opens flowers
fields of bloodlotus have
started to spring up
across the flatlands of
ohio and along the
prairies of lawrence kansas
and i think about
japanese high schoolers at
some ancient prom in
nagasaki could they smell
death on the surface
of their gymnasium floor
did they think am
i dreaming the ghosts
whose blood got in
the punchbowl? they really
knew how to slow
dance in moments of
crisis remember to whisper
they won't even teach us
auden's "funeral blues" cuz
he was a little
too queer they come
riding horses through the
streets of lincoln nebraska
whispering random patriot acts
named after abbie hoffman
what is the meaning
of all of this?
remember to keep your
head down the teachers
say in their best
underpaid voices of concern
american children whisper back
hiroshima monamour they are
the new anti-social samurai
waiting in the infancy
of suburban caves in
prayer for an end
to our consumer holocaust
to create an international
language they whisper
peace like it's going
out of

in the words of harry chapin

i want to write a
love song just because
there are sheep waiting
to be counted on
pillows of regret where
socrates agreed to hold
his tongue because there
is a song beyond
the meaning in my
bones tonight a cherry
that refuses to be
popped even after you
drag it through a
river of shit and
let me tell you
i'm sorry that i'm
the reason why you
had to learn how

the rocky river, crossing over

a once raging now
quiet body felt up
by the infirmity of

beauty seems relative to
where i am standing
when the sun seizes
up goes

leaves crush under my
feet the sound of
crickets mating to 1960's

some say the riverboat
captain of the dead
once slept here cradled
in the sun's

moaning the ballad taught
to ghost children swaying

the story of our
birth was once merely
a string theory rotating
the placement of the
record needle onto a
pile of radiant

John Dorsey currently resides in Toledo, OH. He is
the author of "Harvey Keitel, Harvey Keitel, Harvey
Keitel" with S.A. Griffin and Scott Wannberg,
Butchershop Press/Rose of Sharon Press/Temple of Man,
2005, and "Moshing With The Cosmos" with Iris Berry,
Magenta Press, 2005. He can be reached at

2007 Underground Voices