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The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
-- Randall Jarrell
Until someone can write a poem about death that's at least half as good as this, they shouldn't be writing about death.
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"Women hold up half the sky" -Mao
"God always picks the strangest things to get angry about. Get an abortion or gay married and he'll aim a tornado right at you.
Rip off a million poor people and Wall street has no problems. " -Rebecca B
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