Mike Jurkovic
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politics, poetry, 'n pathos


The black smoke rising
sealed my fate.
I would not be
the dean of letters
or even his water boy.
So I went off,
like every damaged American
and shot my way through
the crowded mall –
A semi-automatic
held like Helen in my hands.
A viperous march
through skin and bone.

I drop the last large magazine,
a pistol takes my breath away.


(Now I Am The) Time Bomb - New Nervous Voice (c.1992 Jurkovic-Worthy) (Source video c.1982 MVP, Inc)
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