Tuesday, March 24, 2009

kingdom of rust


coming down off the hill,
the collective rust of the industrial age
buried deep beneath my feet

a city of silos
a county of cornstalks
a country of fields unfolding, forgotten

birds fly backwards
above my scarecrow, scatterbrain hair
blown awry as I speed the plough
to slow progress and all its impermanence

the red of iron ore waters
pulsing in place of blood
below my sun-dried, yellowed paper skin

birds belie gravity
drawing invisible ellipses
in a sky feathered with jet contrails

with wings wide open they welcome me,
a once wayward son of pioneers
now home and agrestal at last

an eye to the sky to glimpse
the fading sight of skyscrapers
scaling an unsteady ladder to the gods

an ear to the ground to glean
the meaning of the mimicry
echoing off earth from heaven above

mocking our pilgims' progress
and its kingdom of rust

image: john james audubon's ' mockingbirds, plate no. 21 '

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