A Coney Island for our Time

Cicero said it best:
The less said,
the less missed by
The Unlistener.

It's when the investigation thickens
that the City
truly blooms
into a moon puzzle
meant to be layered like
new tags on the license plate
of someone who will
never leave
their state.

The gift of a great painter
is the capacity
to cover up the underlayers
yet keep
topographical presence.

\

In the Wagon Winter of
Nathaneal West - locusts
infest like lonely hearts
inundate the Tundra.

Humanity shelters us
like a Lime Twig,
or a ladder shadow.

We nibble on this comfort
for it is the embers left
to us
from the Wild Fury
that raged its course weeks before.

Hell is a reflection of
The Very Thing that Happens
when wet cement and laziness mix.

We change our tags but
the plate is the same.