fieldtrip

fieldtrip

 

anemic skies shiver like dead leaves-

creeping nimbus rivers of silver and fermented milk

 

before me, above me,

around me,

the frayed ghosts of towering metal monstrosities

groan beneath the wrath of time and resistance

 

muffled by chips of faded green paint,

the menacing laughter of rust rises

like orange imps nibbling, forever,

at the legs of lesser gods

 

strange to stand in the actual shadow

of failed human ambition-

 

a flashback to Babel-

the death of a naked dream

 

we cower in the crevices of cynicism and/or hope

until the cold light has faded back into warm ignorance

 

we walk back to our shiny cars

like dazed cattle

gagging on our mortality

Reviews

[Luke Ritta]

love the first line of the poem....great work