The Twin Towers Walking

Posted by Michael E Angell on Jul 30, 2009

The Twin Towers Walking.

To win the towing of errors?

Hand out;
hand clear of holding onto anything,
hand upon itself
hanging there to the side,

The other one is pointing in awe
that something dressed in white
could be so dark,
so fairly shadow,

And not be a fairy,

Nor know of their clinging & clanging,
how they gather mosquito antennae at night
from the corners of bat's mouths,

How they wipe the tears
from old cat's eyes,

How they mummify mummies
who've not been found by the
Twin Towers Walking.

I sat in the otherwise vacant motorcade,
a necklace of fueled-out lockets of windows,
tires and piecemealed new parts
and dark purples absorbing hot sunlight

I saw her breathing in
billions of suns through her nostrils,
and touched the trillion more moons
who exited her mouth,

Exhaling new heavens,
headaching old hells

I could hear Laughter ON fire,
I could listen to Nothingness in a loop
of rodeo mischief swirling cotton candy,
pinwheels and hula-hoops
and spin-the-bottle
with thin toothpick-shades
who snapped back and forth
when the breeze would
overplay their conversations with
the roar of cascading acorns,
macaw squawks and dead-silent-initiated
locust one-tune-outbursts

I stared at the rubble,
how its adoption of new Age
had toppled it;

no regurgitations,
only Once's,
no Upon's,
no A's,
no Time's.

I followed its splinters
to newly beating hearts
hovering in space,

I followed the splattering of paint,
(anonymous unfolded old
and new inkblot tests),

The settled dust,
the settled wasps ON relocated nests;
now the eve is the basement's tepee.

The silence is the same,
that pre-calm that never left,
it converges upon The Built
and The Demolition,

The unwhisper that neither welcomes
or posts No Trespassing signs,

a loitering genie
that gives nothing in return
for all the wishing in the world.

It's curious to live with wants,
they visit and walk around,
stand someplace and disappear
when we think of something more pressing,
more real and more bound to happen
than a held hand
ON the edge of letting go of fear.

July 28 and 2009



http://www.michaelangell.com
http://www.michaelangellstudios.com



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