Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands“The Village Blacksmith,” Longfellow
Imagine a world without any trees,
without any grass growing on the ground,
no green above or below to be found.
Gray clouds. Gray wood. Gray dust in a gray breeze.
Gray rain falls to gray puddles, sidewalk seas
reflecting gray birds flying, somewhere bound.
Gray squirrels scraping gray dead wood, gray dead sound.
This gray world the gray iron sewer grate receives.
Red, yellow, the last refuge of bright green,
traffic lights will flash while power grids hold.
Above the sewer grates cars will pass, pass, pass.
When US paper currency is clean
it’s green and will buy things until banks fold.
The last thing I’ll buy will be gas, gas, gas.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
This week my Monday and Friday
posts will sort of go together.
They’re not part one and part two of the same thing,
but they are related. A blogging kind of diptych.
I don’t know what I’ll post Tuesday, Wednesday
and Thursday. But Friday my post will be called,
“Quasi Una Petroleum Fantasia.” Yeah.
*
Homeopathy And The Groupie Hierarchy
Sharks In Shoes
All That’s Left Of The Atlantic Ocean
These Are The New Days
The Flat Night
Shanghai In The Epipelagic Layer
A Shadow Too Dark For Atlantis
“Perfect In His Generations”
Modern Romance In The Noir
Is This A Junkyard Church
Industrial Landscape, Industrial Decay, Jazz
Fire Maidens From Atlantis Via Russia
The Built World Before The Wrecking Crew
The Occult Technology Of Lost Songs
Ancient Cities Of The Moon
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