8.29.2013

fog

the fog it rolls arriving nowhere
from here we watch it a short film
stuck in a loop with stops: the clearcut
boundary creating wilderness where forgotten
delivering walled comfort where
none ever existed
it is night cold
arriving before sun setting now
the drop of seasons into one
of dropped leavings
at least in our memory of the east:
hills stamped a red giant star's palette
of warmth
another last breath of life

our mother she once deserved respect
never for beauty but for fear earned
unless unless
that boundless slope beyond:
a sea for mills and you a life turned silk

deep earth bought privilege
and privilege bought this luxury
to bring it to art and object
and destination on a park-way
but hardly art will it be still
when the wilds reclaim
and the fog rolls back and on 

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