American Relics


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Greyhound Bus Route to West Virginia

Old windows in a setting sun,

The cobwebs of America

In town after town,

Emptying, buildings and homes

Crumbling, dust colored

Communities disappearing

In a brain drain of place,

An American country culture replaced

With a fast track to the modern world,

Main veins streaking north, or east, or west,

Money heading south to invest

In shinier buildings made of glass,

Bigger malls and beach house class,

American relics

Falling to the ground,

In place to place,

And dust to dust.

 

 

Karen K L Espaniola          July 10, 2014

 

 

 

 

Kealakekua Bay


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There is an oasis from the heat

Where rubbled pathway leads to shade

And withering grass turns

to damp undergrowth for comfort.

That upward winding climb of transformation,

one step at a time,

From the bottom lands of ancient death

And pinnacles of sordid history,

To the cool air of respite, hope,

And joyful laughter,

head-tipped and rippling,

shouting out into the Universe

in deep gulps,

where every moment here,

is the perfect place to be,

A mimic of eternal grace

roots, bark, leaves

on breath, on skin,

In eyes light space of solace

calling me home,

over and over again.

Where once a navigator died,

still yet, another lives.

 

 

 

Poetry

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© Karen K.L.Espaniola and hinarising.com. 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Karen K.L. Espaniola and hinarising.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.