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Red Plain (Columbus Day)


There were splendors. The ocean navigated them nearer the plump breast of a new world. Our indigenous, greeting the sailor with smiles and immense warmness.

Peace, in this meeting of fleshes, soiled itself with chains of slavery and riches beyond the queen’s dreams. The land, and its worship, was sliced open like buffalo on a red plain.

Sky, the sky, the sky doesn’t dance anymore, not with spirit or truth. Of our scourge we eulogize the ghosts of death, of massacre, beyond the new machinery, our lives.

The Indian, the child, the meadow, the slaughter of stillness. Can’t take it back now! Can’t! It’s done! Musket, arrow, flesh, the birth of a country, drum...


© 2011 by mark prime



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