In The City of Homes

The City of Homes is a sea of tarps
blue as far as the eye can see
nothing much left above
ten feet, a hundred yard dash
through the heart
a trampled turnpike to the
next victims, eastward
striped and flattened trees
instant endless barrens beyond
the city of homes where
nothing’s for dinner, where
foreclosure takes a whole new meaning
where shattered glass soaked
beds provide no rest, where
damaged toys make no noise
sirens fill still air and flashing lights
consume the sleepless nights
here in the city of homes
a gyre once ground up sound
churning up the river and
everything else on its way
to a news item near you or
down south or in Missouri,
Japan, anywhere really and
more often than you’d think
the weatherman or woman would
care to mention that
science has established beyond
a reasonable doubt, reasonable
being the operative term, limits
being needed by the way, we
live reckless on the planet, in
this city of homes where a
flick of the switch no longer works
and the next special report
like yesterday’s headline is
just like tomorrow’s sad tale
in everyone’s city of homes.

- June, 2011
Springfield, Massachusetts

Water World

 

 

 

 

 

 

no boundary, no borders 

underneath, up above this 

world thinks like water its 

thoughts flow with gravity thinking 

we need a flood in the house 

and senate chambers papers everywhere

wet saturated electronics washed-up politicians

clinging floating bad ideas, dead dogma everywhere

choked cloakrooms it was a swamp after all 

filled by slaves with manure whatever was lying about 

it's still down there, it's a fitting foundation for a nation 

fouling the nest, give it a rest! 

you may soon be all washed up drowned 

in your own creation you voted down lifeboats

life preservers (preservers!) 

floundering in a deficit reduction growing weaker

exhausting options sinking down thinking

thinking water.