what a time

Standard


vestiges of wheat
were lain
                on
  the ground
and rolled flat by heavy
machines and sick workmen

blood scrambled to catch up
    to
the mayor
    who sold wheelbarrows of
    stone for stone, green
  and
electrified by the voice of the street

neighbor’s children laugh and scramble
  behind walls grown of terminated
soil packed into garbage spared and
lain on the park floor

what a town. what a time. the end.




………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s