Big Bridge #10

An Open Letter to America


Joel Van Noord



Could I fraction us all into war, peace, and apathy?
        Freedom allows me to.
        But to ask the question implies an acknowledgement of logic and consent.

Those that want to dominate, those that want to collaborate, and those who want to be left alone.
        Or don't give a fuck.
It's terrible as the peace-lovers must engage in battle to achieve their desire.

I've acknowledged it.

Anxious and malicious.
Paranoid and
itching for a reason to strike.

Everyone is an enemy at first glance.
An impulse away from an interaction.

And I can't let you go until I win.
I'll have to pursue,
because I learn from my delusional administration where I can.

It's better to stay on the offensive and catch you where you live.
Force you to confront your own thought.
Hold your throat open and dump an endless supply of reason down your throat.


It disappears

She tells me she loves me at least one time a week,
it used to be seven.

I've got reasons for being here.
There's a job here
which dumps money in my account.
There are mountains in which I rise along with.
There is a coast which I stand on.
        There was a sense of adventure captured
and tamed.

What wind to ride?
Which reason to push?
A few voices whisper, a few yell,

one speaks mechanically in a persistent rhythm

One in every 100 people see the face of a reason
Hardly any can snake it that far.
As everything and everyone along the path
reach out and seize you to a halt.

They/we get swept away after creating a title for a thought.

There's a pussy in a dream which summits a precipitous cliff
and engulfs it all.

I haven't traded a landscape for a woman
but these austere mountains are growing dull
while this passion empties my gut.

Something out there stunted my thought and dragged me so far away.


Poetry is often ascribed to emotion and in antithesis to thought.
This is, itself, somewhat poetic.
But poor poetry at that,

Emotion stems from unacknowledged thought.
What else could it come from
besides thought?

That is the impetus of everything.

The poem is the reactionary answer to an unacknowledged thought.