This is about bodies perforated, scarred, buried now in Iraq, Iraqis mean nothing and as long as Iraqis mean nothing U.S. deaths means less, the New American Century has no soldiers to lose, only profits tallied at Arlington Cemetery. In our time the crosses are not twisted, the signs are all in keeping, but hearts beat glumly, the givens of the day advertised lies suspended in speculation. Invaded by lies they must resist or die slowly inside: for who can give their day of labor to invaders never taking the time to prepare pretexts, not even a cover story for collaborators to be able to tell family it is best for all, to say to one's sons let us bow in abeyance to a market share inevitable, the others will all fall in line, monopolized hearts and minds, greed taken over and walled in. Thank god they resist! thank god they have their pride! Remember Fallujah! though the Romans are cold, armored in, solidarity is with us, resistance until corrupt Americans, British and Australians leave, and they will have only their incestuous bribes and profits the land of Iraq in ruins its people will be free.
About Dean Brink teaches Japanese Studies at Saint Martin's College [see homepage] in Lacey, Washington State, and founded “Poets for Peace and Social Justice” readings in Tacoma, and is currently on leave to pursue research in Taipei, has a chapbook, Quantum Wishes, and with Ali Zarrin co-edited the online journal Interpoetics: Poetry of Asian and the Pacific Rim.