Chinny Chin Chin

She opened the pigpens—
A physics of badlands
Resembled the scrubby hills
Of Theodore Roosevelt National Park.
A parliament of swine chuff—
Popped and faded paroxysms,
sonnets of oilfield imbalances,
Oilskin flints, & parley figs.
She sang to the pigs:
An imperfect parricide breeds
This parody of oligarchy.
Swim, pigs, swim!

What I’m Reading:

“I imagine that one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, that they will be forced to deal with pain.”

— James Baldwin / Notes of a Native Son