Sunday, January 13, 2013


Where the ailanthus grow large
Larger than I have ever seen
In this place I inhabit
Like some poverty dream

Datura are running
as fast as they can
their anthem is stunning
in this forgotten land

we buy our food
nonexistent in fund
lying about ailments
and things we’ve never done

conditioned in this place
its common in this land
to cry out like a child
and then claim to be a man

the roads are hopelessly broken
where dreams do not take flight
playing this serenade
with the people of the night

in the night Datura open,
louder than the train
silent in the darkness
relinquishing us again

the tears for the fallen
that haunt this place so deft
for a world that wastes nothing
for a realm with nothing left

within these cold nights
all that slips away
coyotes carrying on
for the coming of a new day

No comments:

Post a Comment