Poetry

Hearsay

From the September 2012 magazine

A polymer of longitudinal conspiracies

The Apollo landings happened
in someone’s basement.
The director was Sheik Zubair,
from Basra, who had earlier
written works erroneously attributed
to Bacon, Marlowe, and
Elvis. Collective chills
spike overproduced history plays
in the desert streets of Roswell,
New Mexico, in the succubus
hydrology of Bermuda.
9/11 was the work of a pet goat
pent up in the feedlots of the Pentagon.
When you get it,
you get it,
like a knife fight
in a phone booth
over a hole in the plot
you could drive a truck through.
Here, among the airbrushed
anomalies of the moon’s surface,
All Your Base Are Belong to Us.