POEM: Dreams of a Leader

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By Thursday, Aug 3 Arts & Entertainment

Dreams of a Leader

Rushmore! Whole head. Carved – chiseled

jackhammered into the cliff face out there

in one of those Dakotas — North, South,

take your pick, the rat-a-tat drill chatter

going on twenty-four seven. Let the rock

chips falls where they may, until – look!

there it is, the whole head, chin stuck

out like Benito on a balcony, eyes narrowed

to vision slits on a sixty-ton Bradley tank.


Well, sure. TR had to go. And no great loss.

Presidents look stupid wearing glasses.

Anyway, no room for second-raters.

Just the four of us up there now. Four.

Maybe one too many? Maybe Jefferson

could go? If I could only get rid of Jeff.

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