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The Myth of America

In the starry dream

The lonely bald eagle soars in

Early dawn far above the earth

In the realm of awakening light

 

Apollo Whoescapes the

Barren Island of Delos

Taking flight for the

Celestial city in the sky

 

Purple mountains bleed

Upon amber waves of grain

The blood feeds the people

In their manifest destiny

 

The eagle watches all –

It hears every sound

As it hovers over the

Sheep of the valley

 

Watches them –

Keeps them safe

From the wolves

On the prowl

 

Apollo shoots his

Prey from a distance

The predator dances upon

The fatal tension of his bow

 

The sheep of the valley also

Feel the stings of arrows,

The clawing talons of

The jealous, ravenous eagle

 

For the eagle is a bird of prey

Who attacks your enemy

Only to have your curly

Flesh all to itself

 

Apollo seeks order, what

He calls ‘beauty’ in the

Repetition of his own denial

Of the playspace of the earth

 

The sheep, some now turned to goats,

Resist the voracious hunger of the

Eagle, seek to repel the interests

Of Apollo by turning themselves ugly

 

Apollo lusts after the sacrifice

Of the goat and his terrible song

Casts his light and his medicines

Upon the darkness of the dream

 

The eagle swoops down as

Lightening upon the goat and

Sheep alike, to kill one and to

Utterly devour the other

 

The goats prod the sheep to

Conjure the depths of community –

Awaken the remembrance of Dionysus

In the dismemberment of Apollo

About James Aire

I am a writer living in Brixton, South London who is seeking to subvert the 'order of things' through humor, chaos and absurdity.

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