InsignifAmericana

I walk awake through waving fields of American
somnambulists
No matter how loud I yawp for them to wake up To Wake Up--
Nothing.

Arms at right angles clasping currencies, eyes and minds closed to cultures
and blessings,
thoughts and smiles upon and come from affluence and frivolities...
Sneerable.

And I wish so squintingly that I could stroll slumberly myself, not
having to pay--
Pay mind to the Them that I don't care for. Pay mind to the infinite
disagreements.

I call the Them 'Consumericana,' ignoring the every and any that elude being called
'things.'
I call the Them 'Insignificana,' growing our country spoiled
bastard,

while Daddy Sam walks out on us with pride and honor in his pockets instead
of on his chest.
I sing now of what he stole--hid--what we took away from our
elderselves:

of Voices
of Words
of Move....ment
of Wit
of Eloquence
of Antici-...pation
of Discovery
of Feeling
of Imagination
of Love
of Conflict
of Humanity...My Humanity--My distant and inspiring humanity.
__________My pride?
Of an improbable humanity? Of all and every and any
that is too pure and too beautiful

to be slurred as 'things.' But I reflect on me and--
I'm human too.
I'm no Dalai Lama, I'm not. I'm not perfect at all, but I'm
no Nosferatu either.