Mali slides through speakers
a desert snake tonguing my ears,
that word close to what I named
a doll once, chasing memory the second
I hear the country on the radio
while I read of Konna
where burned-out tanks and broken guns
litter the fish market, empty stalls selling air
in a city where the indigo people
trade a green, yellow, and red flag
for white paper, flown up that pole
for all to read. Pay attention:
Assembly for the Spiritual Ideology
to Purify the African World
bordered by machine guns,
drawing so beautifully what happens
when color is traded for ideas.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
This is intense and visual and visceral like a news video up close done in poetry. Well done.
Thanks, Alice. I took the preaching out.
This poem rings like a clear bell. I’ve wondered if others cut bits out. Do you save them for later? I cut and rewrite A LOT.
There is a long strong history of poetry for social activism. I’m reading Carl Sandburg’s anti-war poems before bed right now. This one of your is more fluid and dynamic and lovely than his. Each of us has a different voice.Thanks.
Alice, thank you.
Sparsely perfect.
Thanks, Julie.
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This war we make on ourselves, it knows no boundaries. It configures in different forms and is waged with different tools, but the goal is the same… power to impose.
That is true, Nelle, and very, very sad.