Crow
by Nathan Shoptaw
 
Sexless fashion has become
our ethical nature
Madmen have extra skeletons
for sale—dirt cheap
Mass virgin suicides fill our
minds—hipsters now subscribe to the Journal
Music has bedazzled us—dare
we say alternative?
Sliced-up wrists are being
washed in holy water—everyone just has to conform
People are praying with the TV
turned on—why must we be entertained by others?
I'm fighting a war against myself
reality versus emotion
Evangelists confront the angels
with their money, stolen off the weak
They're all looking for a fix of that
fine green powder from inside
Huff it all up with your paint fumes
of glory
Maybe then you'd have a
reason to tell your life story
Be on TV with the rest of
the saps—jockeys of misfortune
Make a name for yourself
shoot the president
 
Nathan Shoptaw knows the unmentionable reality of life in this country. He is the gouged eyes, the bruised ribs, the middle finger of defiance.

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