America

⁣I have a dream today
Of vast, immortal marble rising over the state of Massachusetts
Upon which is mounted the golden rotunda of the grand State house
And outside that spectacle, on the streets that surround
A rebellion mounts against the oppressors and the tyrants
And the masses rise with their guns and their spirits
And stand before a world that feathered once before my eyes
This green, great NEW WORLD, those great golden skies
That promised king and country and promise and life
And from those masses, these words proclaimed:
GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEATH.
⁣　　I’m so happy tonight⁣
　　I’m not worried about anything⁣
　　I’m not fearing any man⁣
　　MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD.

Promise of reality, of liberty, of ficklety
In a world that blossomed once for sailors’ eyes
In whose embrace lay the promise of all
That mattered in the world
You’ll rip these papers from my hands, and
I’ll make my home here, amongst the trees
Glide jovially across the ocean and plant my flag
Cross mountains and deserts and tundra and prairie
To carve my name into these battered lands
And declare upon them something commensurate
to self-evident truths:
LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS.

The transplanted sustain, or so they say
It takes courage to up and leave like we do
How many of such acts are just a cowering for refuge?
That primal drive for love and promise—or just demanding what we’re owed
In these crowded white halls, holding swarms of commuters
The blue evening light casts a soft glow o’er Manhattan
But all I see is black and white and red
And silvery silvery lights against these vast and angular pillars
I’m frightening, I’m very, very frightening
In our silvery silvery city with silvery silvery lights
Turn those lights out—New York City cares
You don’t gotta figure out erry’tin at once

⁣　　Cape Flattery is the northwesternmost point in the contiguous United States. Leading out to
　　this ancient spectacle are a series of winding state highways. Just one lane in each direction, ⁣
　　and a double yellow bisecting them.⁣
　　On this road, there’s a deep crimson car with Canadian plates that tosses the autumn leaves
　　up, swirling as it shoots through the open air.
　　But that engine knocks as you press on the throttle⁣
　　And feebly it cries WAIT FOR ME, WAIT FOR ME, I FELL BEHIND⁣
　　And that regret washes over you like death by a thousand needles⁣
　　Why are you going west? East. East. East.

In some version of home, of ancient reverie
New Yorkers crowd blackened halls toward the A-train to Far Rockaway
And you stare at those violent and shaking tunnels, catacombs of a world past
And there you felt alive, cruising the New York City subway
Everything you’ve ever wanted in this tiny, crowded train car
Lined with sullen faces and wet and blackened rose petals
Hope for the future, YES WE CAN
Like steamships sounding their horns off Ellis Island
If we can make it here, we’ll be alright
We’ll be alright, they said, f’only we stick together
We’ll be alright, it’ll all be alright.

⁣　　AAAAAAA
WAKE UP HE’S DEAD WAKE UP HE’S DEAD
MY HUSBAND’S BRAINS ARE IN MY HANDS
I’M HOLDING HIS BRAINS IN MY HANDS
The twilight of the American century is a puff of red mist
And those stars and stripes seemed just that much less beautiful now
And it’s all so mediated, so easy, so smooth
Nothing’s quite the same anymore
No more slogans and compassionate conservatism
Only leviathan mobs on Washington’s marble steps
HALF AWAKE IN A FAKE EMPIRE
HALF AWAKE IN A FAKE EMPIRE
Me-too and you-too—high above the great Russian boreal
A lone pilot floats sadly down, to and through the abyss below
⁣　　Aerospace.
⁣　　That brilliant air.
And Oswald on those towers, shouting from the ramparts
⁣　　You’re idle, idle, idle.
⁣　　Don’t go out there.
⁣　　Don’t go out into America alone.
Towers turned to dust, to dust, to dust
Dust, to dust, to dust, to dust, to dust
HALF AWAKE IN A FAKE EMPIRE
HALF AWAKE IN A FAKE EMPIRE
WAKE UP, WAKE UP, HE’S DEAD.

⁣　　a second plane hit the second tower⁣
　　america is under attack.

A vanishing spectre flowered for you and then turned to dust
Now comes the fall—and your keys on the dash
We sit looking out the windshield at rolling New England hills and
Wait for Armageddon to go down
A stranger, in a mask, falling—that great endless dark
There’s no one now to protect you, protect you from the weight of your sins
No drugs to sort this one out
⁣　　Minneapolis is on fire.
⁣　　Seattle is locked up.
⁣　　San Francisco is drilling holes.
⁣　　Apollyon in Washington.
All I see is black and white and blue
Black and white and blue and black and white and—
⁣　　God Save the King.

The best minds of my generation were destroyed by passion
I saw them keel over, suffer, and burn
Athabasca Suffocation.™ Choke Down That Bitumen.™
⁣　　Tuum Est.
But the world flowered for you once more
In that silvery silvery city. That endless promise.
Those great white pillars, like a ribcage embracing the heart
Holding everything that once was—it’ll be ok it’ll be ok⁣—and from the dust
The Archangel Michael arose once more
Seven lambs and seven scrolls and twenty-seven amendments
The Second Coming—I am he that liveth, and was dead; and behold,
⁣　　I am alive for evermore.

And it’s in some coastal town, the north bank of the Juan de Fuca Strait
From which you ponder that vast and faraway land
It’s as if you could reach right across, open your arms to span the length
Of that gorgeous mass of water
And here in this small wooden house, surrounded by the people you—love—

⁣　　Maybe the promise ain’t dead—it’s just moved⁣
⁣　　To tiny living rooms and your mother and father and some programme on ⁣
⁣　　the television and all’s well and good and well and good and well and good.

Leaves are falling, like strangers in a mask
Me-too and you-too, it all goes so fast
Towers like flowers, from dust to dust
And battered stories and guilt and lust
In some indignant lighthouse, on some island in the cape
The world in a glasshouse, flower, don’t foresake
And the sun will rise again above the state of Massachusetts
My God, My God,
America, America, America.