Too much

Dragons row their wings 
above sun bright towers.
At least for the moment,
in the east, faster and faster.

Such variety, such looks!

that's what happens inside:

too much ugly, too much

of the same old venom

lingers on their tongues.

Too much red, white, and blue,

oozes down from tall offices

or up from the street to the clouds.

In need of an update of the limits:

Too many customers shopping

for ammo, coffins, and bunting.

A river of vomit pours out the doors

of courtrooms, from pulpit to podium,

down the steps of the state houses.

Too much pavement, not enough

garden. We’ve had plenty of apple

for now, don’t you think? So familiar

with falling that we forget about grace.