a journey of awareness
Last Space Shuttle What crumbles in my handIs my hand. Mud loses itsHeraldic icons, fossilizedHorsefish becoming sand,Unburied corpses fromA forgotten epidemicFallout that emptied citiesAnd poisoned the water --Nobody to wash the feetOf the dead whose nailsKeep growing. Mud writhesIn my hand, microscopicAs the mechanisms ofEmpire feed the mechanismsOf ants, worms, and insects.[Disposable Poem April 12, 2010]Dr. Mike
Last Space Shuttle
ReplyDeleteWhat crumbles in my hand
Is my hand. Mud loses its
Heraldic icons, fossilized
Horsefish becoming sand,
Unburied corpses from
A forgotten epidemic
Fallout that emptied cities
And poisoned the water --
Nobody to wash the feet
Of the dead whose nails
Keep growing. Mud writhes
In my hand, microscopic
As the mechanisms of
Empire feed the mechanisms
Of ants, worms, and insects.
[Disposable Poem April 12, 2010]
Dr. Mike