hearing jack & diane
by
way of john mellencamp
to ask america
where is our soul
who do we want
to impress now
the exxons of the world
or the folks who keep
slipping
off the side
finding the only thing real is inequity
where the
lady from ellis island
has no tongue
falling silent from
the days my grandparents
landed on the lower east side of ny
tenements of
anarchists and socialists
litvak now american
sisters of the
triangle shirt factory fire
we put our shoulders to the machinery
of the
amalgamated
the steaming canal street pushcarts
america where do we go
from here?
.....
the great woods of the maritime provinces
gathered up
loyalists
from the american revolution
stole the land of the aboriginal
nations
disowned french colonizers and
tucked them away
for their
eventual debut
on the grand ole opry of the 1950s
interdependence not
independence
might be the message of every july 4th
as african peoples die
of malaria and aids
the exxons keep our attention split
on gas
prices
middle east
war contracts
the meaninglessness of all the variations
of
republicrats
always with an oily hand
in our pocket
america where do
we go from here?
.....
hank snow kept bringing up
his lobster pots
empty
like the last of them crawled out
at high tide
made their great
escape
in search of deeper quieter coves
leaving those depending on their
catch
to find new ways of surviving
chords and stories
plucked out on
rickety wooden stages
of appalachia
broken-down coal miner pentecostal
churches
rock farmers of eastern kentucky
louisiana delta blues
sharecroppers
their children & grandchildren
are being trashed
a
bloody crucible of energy politics
rationalizing a new world order
of the
takers and plunderers
america where are the givers?
where do we go from
here?
.....
wetlands and hardwoods
north of liverpool nova scotia
quiet
with many answers
will we find them
find links from the mi'kmaq
ancestors
guardians of the living
before the spoiling
connections the
status seekers
killers of the dream
are blind to
in the depths off
digby neck
there's a
secret or two
we need to pay attention to
'cause the sea never gives up
its dead
or space in our memories
marooned inner-voices
