A BRITISH SEMAPHORE


The new politics is wearing me down
deviance is running out of room

Then starvelings froze in a ditch
let them eat turnip she said

settling her gown
(that was probably
eighteen twenty-six)

          not seeing yet the shadow
          of the martyrs at Tolpuddle
          — which is still a shadow yet

Party member to voter culture
the new world which
is not the New World

I love all rebel slaves

Goodbye America