Colossal Crimes Called Civilization
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Heroic heads of hammered stone lay vast
Beneath the steaming soil for centuries, held
In secret hiding from us all a past
Undreamt, not even when our nightmares swelled
With violence. Those Olmec kings or priests
(Whatever) made Tutankhamun seem trite,
A tinny golden thing. Here came some feast
For jungle gods with children in a rite,
When heads are opened and their brains spilled out
