(Poetry’s for my president:) Living..people (living) in glass cubes, –silhouetted against sunrise walking, icily, in muted squares seen by neighbors through portholes, behind shades of krinkl’d rice-papers drawn up tight..Kabuki plays in every den (coming out of typewriters), lions roam the streets chasing butterflies..”Nurse! Nurse!” Where can one go? Overseas, peoples converse, like in public meeting-halls wearing TV-screen hats for crowns..cathode-ray tubes flicker as sun swallows ocean, “Hai.” overheard in V-formations – on their course – shrieks of cranes gliding south..Blue! enemy coasts, visible through binoculars on the bridge and periscopes below, making decisions for lost worlds, and sailors – in them,mm!mesmerized – in dreams, dreaming fealty’s to solemn oaths in underwater water-tight compartments slowly digesting navy meals ahead of the expected nuclear winter, nod..agreeably. Down in the engine room it is much the same, –murky steam+no windows..0H-4-Hundred, –“ZER0! to report SIR.” (?) “People’s IS peoples” (=). This means YOU. “Weigh anchor. Sayonara, suckers!” “Sir! volcano dead ahead, Your Excellency..Sir.” (!!) “Rook!rook!Gojira!!Gojira!!” Royal wedding (by invitation). Send in geishas, no samurai to accept. Blow them kisses, kisses and bombs (flower-power). Peace..baby