I have seen
A world where floors
Are not the flipside of ceilings
Because there is only one story
Giant sieves hang from
Not sure where
Not sure what they do
Remnants of spiraling highways
Ending in sink-holes
Pre-apocalypse architecture
Makes even less sense
No one is qualified to think
You apparently need a license to talk
Some people do nothing
But search for proofs of god
No dogs no public air
No public no private
There is just this space this person
This monolith this giant hand
This brain-museum
Pigeons have forgotten how to fly
Children throw them up in the air
But they drop like stones
(It all seemed pointless
It reminded me of a Merwin poem
That ends badly for the pigeon
Because it thought that the poet could help
But it turned out to be just a metaphor)
No mountains no valleys
No theories no ideas
No water left
That recognized "love"
(Article changed on January 27, 2020 at 17:41)
