Every November 10 my Brother and I would celebrate his birthday and the Marine Corps birthday together. 

At 6 a.m. I would knock on his door on 21st Street in La San Fran Mision, and he would rub the muck out of his eyes, and we would begin binge drinking with lots of Love and horror in our hearts.

Together as Brothers. 

N Jeff and the Corps are carved into my heart.

I dedicate the following poem to Ira Hayes, a combat action Marine who raised the flag on Mount Suribachi and who died in a ditch on a Navajo Rez.

“The Best of Us Are the Most Fucked Up”

You join to
Kill or
Be killed
To suffer
To laugh
The dream
First to fight
You pray for war
Imagining a
Banzai! Attack
Against you
Just for you
You in the middle of
Blood and Guts
Combat

You are a special
Target
A Marine
A grunt
Front line
The poorest of
The poor
The stupidest
Rock
Known to man
But contrary to popular
Belief
You are not more
Brainwashed
Than anyone else
You know life
You know death
It is your tradition

Belleau Wood
Iwo Jima
Khe Sanh
Beirut
Kuwait
Afghanistan
Iraq

You do not pick the war
You just show up and
They are there
Ready for you

To patrol the jungle

To jump into the trench
To step on the booby trap
To know nothing
Your dream come true

You are Ira Hayes
Un Indio
Un Pima Indio
Who lifted
UP
And planted
The American Flag on
Mount Suribachi
The iconic
Image of the 20th century

The Indio
Against
The Samurai
The Indio won
But that victory
Led to his
Death in a ditch
Back at home
An Arizona Injun Reservation
A giant concentration camp
Ira Hayes did not want to be a
Hero
For
Genocide

He came back to the
Rez and
Drank
Fire water
Would get arrested
Thrown in the can
Get up
Get out
Then do it all over
Again

A good Marine
A jughead
A gyrene
High and Tight
Devil Dog

You act like it
Aint shit
Tough
Cool
Crazy
Everybody knows
That shit has
Consequences

Death in a ditch

You’re a
Marine
Ira Hayes
The best of us
The most fucked
UP