On a BBC video utilized as a commercial by an esteemed

institution of higher learning I can nearly see from the three

minute stroll to beachfront at the end of my brother’s street – 

coincidentally (maybe not?) is the first on my list of graduate 

programs I am applying to – a girl flashes on the screen 

during a round table montage critique feedback and asks the question, 

“…where does their anger come from?” about a character  

from the book on trial in the blind setting sun soaked room 

of incorruptible photon beams flare and shine in lanes 

of navigation between concrete scrappers of sky

onto the beautiful vibrant hopeful faces of nascent’s

through large rectangle windows of pain sunning down

students half my age (who I will never meet but am

compulsively jealous of); I am almost offended – almost.

And, in my experience with anyone who expresses offense, 

I have found those mother fuckers have sinister secrets 

backed up to their brain stem’s bases. Where was I? Yeah! Wait…

What? Yes…where does the anger come from. Where does the 

anger come from? Unless she’s been on heroin her entire life, 

there is no excuse for her to ask a plebeianly question. Truthfully, 

I am surprised people haven’t been screaming themselves unconscious 

for the past 50 or 100 years…shit 200 – Fuck it! – 1000 years…

and I do not care this video was shot five or ten or 20 years ago: the 

whole goddamn this is inside out! Anyway, where does the anger come from?