Thursday, September 6, 2018


                                   March of the Infidels

its rained hard
torrential, no visibility
for all but nine
of the last sixty miles

off the highway
greeted by an embankment
covered in small flags
looking like
two hundred and fifty
tiny desk sets
two flags, four blades
of grass, forever patriotic

on the stereo
Bud Powell plays
March of the Infidels
staccato intro
before the head
comes in full swing

Bud, you and I
are infidels
all these flags
tokens of some patriotic
religion, some zeitgeist
where it is no longer
patriotic to question
the rule of law

you were beaten
unconscious by Philadelphia
police in 1945
you heard voices
for the rest of his life

I live in a time
where cops still do their best
to kill black men in the streets

I’m waiting on some voice
to bring sanity to
to a country that’s teetering

I’m waiting on some voice
that, like your fingers
across the keys of a piano
still celebrates humanity

--Jason Baldinger

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