Monday, February 23, 2004

   Okay, here's mine:

Crescent City, plunged beneath the waves,
Never again to lure that tourist dollar;
Descendents of the masters & the slaves
Are gone, their mingled beauty, myth, & squalor
Remain as gumbo, muffaletta, tales
Of ghosts & vampires, whispered after dark;
As music of strange urgency. What fails
To parse for us today is how it all
Must once have felt, together, not these stark
Shattered reminders. Deeper denizens crawl
Upon the kudzu-wreathed verandas, dart
Between the cemetery statues now.
They glow in silence, as we too must bow
Before a myst'ry void of bound or start.

02 23 04

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