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Back Issues

Dexter Zirkle

UNTIL I, TOO TURN GHOST...

The birds cry
widowed
from their partners.

Larking
Finching
as if to let everyone know…

“I once shared flight
with a magic
roaming
spirit
whose love song I shall sing
until,
I too,
turn ghost
and
float
unhindered
past kingdoms made of clouds
and skies that shed no light
where stars begin to shimmer
when lovers meet again.”

ATTENTION ALL RESIDENT MANIACS

Attention all resident maniacs
your home is not here
under business roof
and lunch hour zoom
your home is not here
for flap mouthed noises
the voices of your other demons’ demons
for distant, wide eyed stares
into the absolute nothing
And for you nothing does exist
except birds with broken wings
that speak what you speak
with beak
Large paper strung Moon
with huge hanging Sun
and light bulb stars with hidden pull chains
that the others yank
when the big God orders the eight o’clock shutdown

Where do you slither when the lights go out?
Across city borders
Leaving sidewinder patterns
in the crew cut lawns
of the mighty affluent?
Or
do you tunnel under
grates of sewer
prying open metal doorways
of refuse
to inhabit the shit labyrinth
which lay under building weight
and the blanket of street and intersecting avenue?
Your home is not here under mechanical skies
where clouds are cogs and gears
caught
in constant grind

**

Dexter's photos will appear in the next issue of the City.

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