Thursday, October 21, 2010


Another repost.. I wrote this one when the housing markets crashed.

There's echos in the hallways

paper flutters as the wind at 36 stories

passes through the jagged windows

whistling through the gutted cubes

Old Anansi spins upon the leather power chair

the mid morning sun sparkling on the picture frames

he left them, the chair's former occupant

before he went out the fast way

And in the trees near his landing

there's the creak of the ropes

dry as the men they suspend

above the grassy paving cracks

One patent leather shoe slips from the decaying foot

of a former financial advisor, now scarecrow

startling the feeding ravens, who fly out

out of the necropolis, into the sun

Out, over the empty fields, the fading houses

over the billowing tents, mismatched and cobbled

from old air bags, pool covers, and more lately

skins of the dying cows, too tame to survive

She scrapes the fat from the skin with Discover

she can't read the word, but the card lasts forever

and there's dozens more, imprinted with strange names

last epitaphs of the fallen suburbanites

She stops, listening as the baby stirs, silent,

then murmuring, as the child twitches back into slumber

"It's goan be arite, baby baby, goan be fine

Cause we'll build it all again, baby, light it all again."

And the baby, snoring beneath the soaring raven

warmed by the burning pages of illegible knowledge

carries the seeds of the unseen millions, who shall

seek, and strive, and destroy it all again.

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