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from the omnivorous view of the basin
we see the men enshrouded among
the pigeon-stained statues of Jesus
clenching a small handful of nickel pipe dreams
forming the shape of their palm under the
placid sun laughing between concrete trees
and smiling their sad earth grins
we see the women with their machine gun eyes
count and howl the decor
gorging on trash can meat
as the traffic light sends them up and down
the street and the dead bludgeoned trucks ripen
under the sun's face
we see the spirit of man
dormant in puddle corners holed down
in unconscious celebration of light searching
for immortality and answers to immortal questions
alienating the blades of green growing long with instinct
if we peer through the paths parted with lilac
up in the faceless ceiling mirror we see ourselves intact
the dying dead of a transcending vision only reading
walk
and
don't walk
as the city's greatest men snore loudly
rotting yellow in their good fearing twine.
copyright 2004
Douglas
Dvorkin |
