Willie Smith

Willie Smith has a bad back from blowing himself. His book Oedipus Cadet is available from Black Heron Press in Seattle.

STOMP

I put on my red hat of hatred.
I went out looking for reds.
I had guns. They had guns.
The war had just begun.
All cause one red
stabbed in the dark a brother.
Butchered him for bread.
Takes two to even.
To which ilk tango
I am bred.
One to spy. One to gut.
One to milk. One to nut.
I went out looking for reds.
Eager to shred dye to
Prussian pools in a gutter
clogged with dread.
I went out looking for reds.
Hot to gutter blood.
Ready hiss, fang, rattle to repeat
in history.
Quick to gutter blood.
I pulled a thread from my red hat of hatred.
Tied it to my boot.
Went out to tread on reds.
Cause the war had just spread.