Amerigo

Amerigo vespucci if you let those horses go they’ll run and run 
and wherever they’re damned european hooves strike
the supple innocent ground is going to sprout endless parking lots 
Blacktop joint sipping youths and wirey wineos will wonder why 
How they got here, oh what spawned me out into this empty land? 
No answer 
Just crickets in the hollow forests 
Not enough water in their strangled veins.
some slaves are screaming from their graves 
Some are still turning and turning 
Corpus Turbinus powering the dark electricity 
running your mother’s washing machine 
Chewing itself to oblivion. 
AMERIGO! Hold those horses on your ship. 
Shackle the weathered brown faces, 
run the buffalo off the hills.
Bring white sugar and coffee beans.
Cook the wild turkey in black cast iron pans. 
Fine. 
But I beseech you 
don’t let those gehenna stallions off that ship. 
There is a consequence I have foreseen.
In frozen new york nights the fumes of their black flesh nostrils piling out of smokestacks,
their twitching muscles in Kern County oil rape machines 
The bulge of their restless veins dissected and stretched over 
Intercontinental transcontinental outbound inbound never to be stopped again.
The confluence of their behemothan waste finds its way into battery juice stained 
Landfills in pasadena tijuana new orleans albuquerque trenton downton manhattan rat fests on the railways, oh there is no end to
colombia district waste cans the children are strewing through 
every early morning trash truck rattle over the potholes of bloated municipalities 
Spawning forth nothing made by man, just plastic flesh in fake petunia gardens.
I know you cannot see it now, Amerigo.
We cannot peer too deep into the void.
Believe me,
You cannot let those horses go. 
Close up the deck, return them home 
Here, put a hand to your ear. 
Can’t you hear the chanting of the froth of your loins 
stretching back centuries 
Over the gray industrial zones 
Past the slums
through walmart target sears tjmaxx aisles bearing the surplus burden 
borne out of those wild eyed stallions 
ready to build 
what is now to be destroyed?
Can’t you hear their chanting? 
Oh, please return them home.
Oh god, I’m begging you to send them back. 
Please, please, back. 
Back over the atlantic
To their stables in spain. 
We cannot bear to see them 
Again in this turbulent dream,
Stretching out their thin running legs 
Stepping on steel spikes
Flapping red gums 
Shrieking into plastic cribs 
Breathing heavily 
Breathing slowly 
Breathing deliberately
Managing to mouth the words that you, Amerigo, cannot seem to hear: 
All beginnings have their end.