Posterity

I posted today's poem yesterday. And here, yesterday's poem today.

Which is about history. So we can all pretend it was intentional.


Posterity

You, who read this    what is it like
            Who are your neighbors?

Can you see the Milky Way from the roof of Santa Fe
            I wrote about trees in that house            leaves            sounds of spring

How like applause they are            how ominous
            The shape of an aspen stand turning yellow against a smoke-filled sky

Something I learned in the high deserts speaking
            in riddles reveals what you want to hide faster

Or so they say            I love that saying    pure ambivalence
            I was in a play about ambivalence in Santa Fe

Is the warehouse still standing?
            They were going to put up shopping malls

Of course            you should read this on the third bench from the middle of
            the Brooklyn Bridge            that is where I am

Of course you could be reading it anywhere            Does anything even exist
            since Coney Island and the cost of living and swine flu?

Did they ever put in that Starbucks on the corner?
            I used to look in abandoned windows and think about living

I stood on the beach as they closed the gates on Astro Land
            all balloons            collapsing bull markets