Sunday, October 25, 2015

Millrace Spectres

Now it is the future
with its no trace
of Agripac

With holes looking out
the steam plant's
impossible windows
one light left on
for us?
To come in and begin
again?  A patrol of the cages
wires and splicing--
extra rags in our dungarees
creating something out of nothing
that would be our job

Too-sweet pancakes
at the diner its name escaping
because it was right there
customers obvious
the Four O'clock
wasn't that the name?

Upriver cormorants in the snag--
their ancient throats singing
the same silent gulping song
in the sun
we walk along
looking at everything
twice as much as before

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