Maybe the smoke hasn't yet cleared. The thick haze of cannon
and musket belching has long since dissolved. Replaced a century
later with the thick haze of exhaust. Tale pipes now for artillery.
Both equal in their deadly potential. The congestion of blue and
grey, battling through and over the streets and hills and valleys
are mocked by the congestion of camera toting tourists, complete
with their flip-flops and 2.5 kids. Mockery. But in some way,
we all take part in this mockery. Which is more offensive in our
derision: ignorant participation of the typical tourist or the willing
role in examination and counter-examination of the anal historian?
That is never for the poet to decide.
How Green the Grass Should Grow
Nothing But Glory
Between the Signal Shots
Once More Before They Die