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Big Mr. Dinosaur
The whole world is your city
where once walked
on every state island, all too sober
prehistoric drama mavens
and what is the mystery
of their golden teeth?
Why these footprints
these boney firemountain feet
pressing the world under their steam
step by step, framed in lemongrass?
And with every step
he is king for a day
for an hour
for a second
for a season
for a minute
for a moment
Wherever he goes
taking his kingdom with him
turning it into the east
into the west
into the past
into the future
knocking down plans
to build a better beast
to lay in state museums
to give your dead bones to the living
We are glad you are Dead
for if you are alive, we are Dead
In silence, your growl
the sound of a big lonely country
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