Sunday, November 27, 2016

Vale Fidel

A line from Fidel Castro
Parades choke rural
hamlets. Beemers are
stuck at the roadside.
Carbon partitioning

along the Central Coast's
main commuter routes
causes war, hypocrisy,
& competition. Only

educational materials
about piano playing &
music theory still have a
crunch to them through

a glut of younger buyers
who bring the fervor of
stalks of celery. But who
really wrote Shakespeare?

A line from Fidel Castro 2
Winter is getting me
down. A unit of cult-
ural information has
put the Galactic Senate

under attack, driving
it from crisis to crisis.
That slavery is inexorably
tied to the availability

of oil is the standard
paradigm for most
crises; but now recent
breeding population

trends of farmland
birds need to be fact-
ored in. Please complete
the enquiry form below

& I will provide you
with a list of exclusive
Havana Vacation Homes
available for weekly rent.

Che in Bolivia
I must write & thank Fidel for his parting gift. A book of poetry, that fits comfortably in the pocket of my camouflage fatigues. By a Yanqui yet, who set out every day to write something, even when it was hard to find something to write about. It’s an idea I’ve picked up on, have carried out.

Have kept a diary throughout this campaign, although daily Bolivia is very much the same old same old, unlike the New York I read about each night where there are "so many things in the air!" Here there are only maggots & mosquitoes, & the mutterings of peasants intimidated by our presence. They help us because they are frightened of us, & then send to tell the army because they are more frightened of the soldiers.

The army is in the next valley over. The army is now in the valley behind. We are running out of food, are running out of time. "The only thing to do is simply continue."

I am a man with two hearts. The one that beats still dreams of the revolution. The one that weeps is in my pocket, it is Lunch Poems, by Frank O’Hara.

We will move towards the next valley. That way I at least can choose the manner of my death.


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