from state playgrounds

his burglars trample back to Washington

            meeting with the President

whose time's been spent covering for the coverers,

            rehearsing the story straight

then hustling out to Camp David where the boys hang out,

 sayin:

“boss, we ain’t playin no coverup no more,

            got no marbles left, 

the jig's been confiscated”

           downtown 

it's evident something’s gotta be done about dealing with Amerika,

            reparations are flooding in

100 dollar bills floating in clemency pie

            baked by White House staffers

whatever was being discussed by members of the trust…

            and where is this Commander-in-Chief?

back in Palm Springs 

     sketching fig trees

teeth gripping pipe sipping chamomile tea

            yes, Nixon’s obsessed with confusion,

misdirected by the gravity of a republic, 

     a presidency, 

his legacy

     still, more questions emerge…

who is on the White House enemy list?

    (audit all enemies at once J. Edgar!)

you’re doin a fine job, John,

    you’re doin a fine job, Bob,

and yes, Dick knows,

   Richard knows, enough

          meanwhile, somewhere down in Sonora Mexico 

prison fences have been erected for our new home, Free America,

          where we shall sing the poems together again

            where there's no one to pay the lightbills 

while the Nixon's thieves abuse Tío Samuél with their toilet bowl faking:

            “hey, take care of my family and lawyers while I’m away, you know, countryclubbing,

and I guarentee job security for you all when I set sail next year”,

     or if St. Maria Goretti publishes her book on July 1, 1973

as prophesized on some Vatican one-way highway sign:

            "all will be forgiven", nay pardoned:

the sacrosanct continual cycle of collective Karma!

6/27/73

Bisbee