A Torn Envelope, No Return Address

The amphitheater’s crowd draws a silenced anger
as tragedy and comedy, the cast and crew confuse.
All the world’s a stage for the revenge-exacting fools,
but when the scripts are scrubbed clean, who controls who?
Some from the audience up and leave,
to mourn the fallen Muse, laid to eternal rest;
those who stay settle in and loiter
awaiting the leery Host’s marching orders.
Expression became control in these United States:
the dialectic’s culture-war became our fate.
Washington surrendered upon Horkheimer’s advance
as decorum languished and hedonism grew great.

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