I sent this poem to a free protest poetry zine being distributed on Wall Street

 tremendous loft

I am a peace cutter. Drink in the city and the city drinks you right back.

Breathe the fear out like you’d turn off a video game and

there will be a ______________, then

                                (tree)

_______________________.

      (tree, plural)

And here I shouldn’t forget about the doves.

Tent city and the armchair cupholders

are  ____________________________________. We fly like
                           (vast adverb)

joy might from screens, memories.

           

The _____________________________________________________________

         (noun with the Piranha Plant from Mario 3, but not the one from Mario 1)

doves.

I’m not a revolutionary, I’m just a man in a _____________________________.

                                                                                                 (funny hat)

I used to smoke a lot of weed with my friends and play

insane card games with rules

that trailed off into the dark of the surrounding suburban wooded

enclaves like

ribbon-frayed smoke __________________. That was then.
                                            (trails)
The war is waiting.

                                         

Sometimes an outsider would visit and sometimes we played

the Mario 3 level with the giant fish for hours on end.

How it flew, ate us up and we were so glad to be that

way. Once I stayed up all night writing my manifesto.

Today we’ll write it together.

________________, the doves. What about the doves.

 (occupation)