Unetanah Take F

His passion for justice sacrifices com-
plexity; he loves his neighbor as
himself too simply, from moral Alcatraz
he birdmans all the guns out of the scrum
of magazineland’s packed obamasum,
last green and gassy stop before it has
to shit its takes, thinkpieces, all that jazz—
tooting reassurance: we’re not dumb.
The writers are dismayed, and seized by fear
and trembling; heard the wailing shofar and
they cried—the Day of Judgment, not for us!
It shall not be inscribed, it is not clear—
we cannot explicate the Holy Land—
heave-ho our former colleague: comes the bus.