Chicago Poem

Here's the first in my series on literature (taklin' about it and postin' it). Shout-out to Marianne Reed!

The lake is cold and dark,
and the steel scrapes upon it,
bordered by glass and brick,
we kneel before it,
their bones an icy echo,
of civilization.

The water exhales its aura into the sky,
a pale, shell pink and yellow.
Beneath these wooly clouds
is the final shard of the sun,
and the last vivid blue of space,
tearing itself to meet the water.

I imagine this place a belvedere of stone,
a lonely stela upon the water,
the last burgeon of sanity,
but in truth we are on the shore,
and civilization is drifting out there,
with the unknowable water.

We are degrading slowly,
while the water turns, churning cold.
My last breath is tearing itself up,
like the last vivid blue of the sky,
while the light of earth is diminishing,
soon all will be dark.

Chicago, Illinois November 2006