And when mein kampf
Is placed in shelves
Art twists to fit in boxes
Of a must ache (or a mustache)
And a must have
And a must not be
Blue-eyed soldiers of fortune
Encompassing poles across every direction
Aryan infernos piercing the nightline
Razing pillars of the stars
As Abraham weeps over his children
Seeing through their eyes
The thorns he long thought
Died along with the past
I like this poem because after reading this month-old poem, I have come to realize box meant like at least three, maybe four, things
1. The book
2. His mustache
3. His future
And
4. His death (coffin?)
