Ou Li Po Haiku

America goes on laughing, the bombs,
the bombs are Fourth of July theatrics to them, whee!
(this is the yellow scrapbook that contains you)

enough emptiness to make Psyche weary & Eros weep
the both of them dead quiet naked rubbing legs in the spoil
hearing your words & not a word among them to my liking

no matter : hum a little doo-wop for the crowd, fellas!
chart it cherry pink & apple blossom white
it's all skin now, anyway, where the skull was

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