Me reading two of my poems @ Westland Library on 5/31/12.
The first poem is a haiku:
Dappled round ripples
Denote unseen fish play
Laughter on water
The second poem is titled:
“Ode To A Wrecking Ball”
Some people decry letting old places die.
Cringing at the thought when bulldozers are brought
to knock down the walls of decrepit dance halls.
With their voices raised and eyes wet and glazed
they bemoan this ‘great loss’ like it’s Jesus on the cross.
They simply cannot see that all stories are History.
Sentiment for old shelves is us trying to save ourselves
trying not to be forgotten when our children plant new cotton.
New buildings and new dreams replace those old, dry-rotted beams.
These vast empty shells where dust and ghosts dwell
do no good for the living and that’s their misgiving.
Heart-felt, emotional pleas against hard financial realities.
Stuck in once-upon-a-time, aging starlet past her prime
once glorious and new, now forgotten like an old shoe.
Better to remember May and forget November.
Turn-of-the-century wonder will soon be torn asunder
as its Art Deco charm falls without much alarm.
Architecture is divine when the taxes are not mine.
Buildings aren’t meant for the dead, but for those left in their stead
to use as long as they’re needed, ‘til the usefulness is exceeded.
Then best that they be replaced than just left there to go to waste.