Go down, this was not supposed to, desperate

clawing to survive, wrecked, altered, forever grieved lives.

 Calipee crescendos of despair, reverberating,

brought down towers of Babel believing in fairy tales.

Melted girders bent into shoelace knots,

crushed, tossed and blown dreams, bodies.

Do the dead know who killed them?

Do they remember who gave them their last kisses?

Crusades a thousand years old, resurrected, rejuvenated, implemented.

Searchers for diamonds among the bone ashes.

Tears long dried, streaming again in a Dead Man’s Float.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s