Memorial For Vagrants [Today's News Poem, May 31, 2010]
The windows are shattered. The vagrants are haunted:
They're stray silhouettes in the alleys, betraying
The layers of darkness that linger this graveyard
Of wealth. And the playgrounds were filled with the children
Of workers. And now they are filled with the lurkers
And drunkards: their stories, too scary for movies.
The living? Who honors the living? Who follows
The losers not planted with markers and statues?
Who builds a memorial, praising the triumphs,
Or mourns for the losses a slide or a window
That carried the children with sand in their footwear
From heights to the depths. And the gardens were smiling,
The plum trees were fragrant. The rosemary blossomed.
The sidewalk was even. It carried the tiny
And precious embodiments love and compassion
Can cultivate. Grown and he's desperate for money—
For anything. Pushing a cart with his blanket,
With photos of happier memories: fading
And lacking memorial—save for the spirits
Of children who played once with sand and now needles,
On playgrounds forgotten—he notices something.
A sign from the city. It's closing. They're fixing
The structures. They'll clean up the shards in the sandbox.
A sign in the weeds says “For sale by foreclosure,”
In front of the house where the windows are broken.
“Black middle-class neighborhoods are hollowed out, with prices plummeting and homes standing vacant in places like Orange Mound, White Haven and Cordova. As job losses mount — black unemployment here, mirroring national trends, has risen to 16.9 percent from 9 percent two years ago; it stands at 5.3 percent for whites — many blacks speak of draining savings and retirement accounts in an effort to hold onto their homes. The overall local foreclosure rate is roughly twice the national average.”
– Michael Powell, The New York Times, May 30, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/31/business/economy/31memphis.html?hp
“Yet for this young interrogator detachment was not ultimately a viable solution: “I know I am the same person who was doing those things. And that’s what tears at your soul.””
– Nancy Sherman, Opinionator, The New York Times, May 30, 2010
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/30/a-crack-in-the-stoic-armor/?ref=opinion
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Showing posts with label graveyard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label graveyard. Show all posts
Monday, May 31, 2010
Memorial For Vagrants [Today's News Poem, May 31, 2010]
Labels:
children,
foreclosure,
graveyard,
Khakjaan Wessington,
May 31 2010,
Memorial Day,
playground,
sandbox,
statue,
Toylit,
toylitpaper,
Vagrant,
window
Monday, May 10, 2010
Expiry Date is RIGHT NOW [Twitter Found Poem, May 10, 2010]
Expiry Date is RIGHT NOW [Twitter Found Poem, May 10, 2010]
Tweets+Edits= #twitterfoundpoem
Twitter Bug dance Lets you freak
the pole at The Club like a Replicant.
get back in the groove with
indecent, obscene or menacing
joke dancing. it's illegal for ppl to say
stupid shit on the web now...
But we can dance instead and
freak the pole at The Club...
illegal ppl, REPORT to the airport RIGHT NOW!!!
we plan to blow up a firework in a pigeons ass,
When you and your stupid shit on the web get here...
it's the Groove Yard or the graveyard...
your choice. ALL potential DANCERS
REPORT to the airport. it's illegal for ppl to say
something, everything … Just make ready…
you're on live web now
and you love to freak the pole at The Club
like a Replicant who's just scanned his own
barcode to find his expiry date is RIGHT NOW.
Subscribe in a reader
Tweets+Edits= #twitterfoundpoem
Twitter Bug dance Lets you freak
the pole at The Club like a Replicant.
get back in the groove with
indecent, obscene or menacing
joke dancing. it's illegal for ppl to say
stupid shit on the web now...
But we can dance instead and
freak the pole at The Club...
illegal ppl, REPORT to the airport RIGHT NOW!!!
we plan to blow up a firework in a pigeons ass,
When you and your stupid shit on the web get here...
it's the Groove Yard or the graveyard...
your choice. ALL potential DANCERS
REPORT to the airport. it's illegal for ppl to say
something, everything … Just make ready…
you're on live web now
and you love to freak the pole at The Club
like a Replicant who's just scanned his own
barcode to find his expiry date is RIGHT NOW.
Subscribe in a reader
Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
airport,
dance,
graveyard,
grooveyard,
illegal,
Khakjaan Wessington,
May 10 2010,
pole,
replicant,
speech,
Toylit,
toylitpaper,
Twitter Found Poem,
web
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