Prose on the stomach on the shore

The paradox of capitalist utopia may be summed in the following tercet:

“…Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”

What animal composed this but a very hungry one? One might as well pen a reply:

“…Give me your hungry,
Your shepherds and lambs
So that I may devour them.”

The similarities between the brazen bull and that rusted colossus of New York (the mouth of America, or its gaping maw) continue to astound. Immigrants to this nation resemble more and more, in line with history, an input of labor rather than agents conspiring for freedom. Better yet that the food is multicolored and reluctant to digest, for only in cultural flux do cultures further flourish.

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~ by Jeremy on June 28, 2013.

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