No Limit To Our Cravenness
I watched a sparrow go mad
Right in front of me
It charged a red bush like a bull to a matador
To build a spring nest in November
Head first through the air
It smashed into the branches
Shaking and breaking its tiny bones with fury
Weaving the straw of this insanity
Into something more familiar
Beneath its wings and hoofs
As the summer-like day cooked
The record books
They’re not telling the truth
On Fox News or across the AM dial
Or from the pulpit of Reddit and Energy
They’re just making money money money money money
Maintaining those ratings tithings and paychecks
Audiences waving their white hankies
Ole’ ole’ ole’!
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