Journalist alone
You metamorphosize
You become a winged Hitler
In the press room of fallen angels
Journalist alone
In the ether of world secrets
You swim like a shark
You devour the clones of politicians
Journalist alone
Your head chewed off by demons
Page three beauties tug your legs
A newspaper bursts from your abdomen
Journalist alone
You are the gravel of memorial parks
Where the tears and sighs of mourners
Float amongst the molecules
You listen to the whispers
Of how death recruited
People in high places
To organize the conflict . . .
Journalists alone
On the sickness of the whirlwind
That picks you up like frogs
And drops you down in palaces
Journalist alone
You run with the hungry pack
Roughed up by Mr. Hyde
The wolfman of political reporting
Journalist alone
Wearing a golden breastplate
Your feet turn to butter
Whenever mobs are rioting
Journalist alone
The imprint of your ears
Is left in the concrete
Of every secret office
1999
