Buena Vista (with edit)
Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2021 11:18 am
edit:
I tore down the board privacy fence
and opened up my piece of overlook.
All night lights swim through high-density
housing at the bottom of the canyon.
Up and down, to and fro, headlights,
tail lights, brake lights, shimmer
in the near atmosphere.
Further up the terraced far side
lights slide like beads along a string
stop and start, obedient
to intermittent red and green.
Above the rim, seemingly afloat, detached
from earth, glows a mega cross
erected by Our Savior Evangelical Church.
The Walmart, built on landfill, is open all night
for those who pull the late shift I suppose:
its a super store with groceries
and a Burger King. Who watches
their children I wonder, while they work:
those people of the traveling lights?
Chevron gas has a taco shop,
their sign twirler at the intersection
has grown old in the eighteen years I've lived here.
Lately he's been sitting on a folding chair.
The dancing cow with the sign that says
eat more chickin has disappeared.
Once there was a waterfall feeding fresh
to the lagoon. Egrets stood in wetland shallows
and hidden in surrounding willows the tents
and shopping carts of those who frequent
freeway exit ramps with cardboard signs:
please help, anything will do.
A need for low cost housing the city said, baffle the flow
against potential flooding: developers may build there.
Buena Vista Creek declares a billboard: units start
at five hundred thousand. But the creek is gone.
Are they all down there, those who shop, twirl,
ask for help, work at night, dance by day:
in the dark, are they all down there
snug behind those canyon lights?
*****************************************************************************
This is one of the NaPo poems originally titled "Midnight's All A Glimmer". One of the few 2021 efforts I think is worth editing and tinkering with. The last 2 stanzas are additional
I tore down the board privacy fence
and opened up my piece of overlook.
All night lights swim through high-density
housing at the bottom of the canyon.
Up and down, to and fro, headlights,
tail lights, break lights, shimmer
in the near atmosphere.
Further up the terraced far side
lights slide like beads along a string
stop and start, obedient
to intermittent red and green.
Above, seemingly afloat, detached
from earth, a glowing mega cross
erected by Our Savior Evangelical Church.
The Walmart is open all night
for those who pull the late shift
I suppose: its a super store with groceries
and a Burger King. Who watches
their children I wonder, while they work:
those people of the traveling lights?
The gas station has a taco shop,
their sign twirler at the intersection
has grown old in the eighteen years I've lived here.
Lately he's been sitting on a folding chair.
The dancing cow with the sign that says
eat more chickin has disappeared.
Once there was a waterfall feeding fresh
to the lagoon. Egrets stood and the tents
and shopping carts of those who frequented
the freeway exit ramp with cardboard signs:
please help, anything will do.
A need for low cost housing the city said,
baffle the flow against potential flooding.
Buena Vista Creek development: units start
at five hundred thousand. But the creek is gone.
Are they all down there, those who shop, twirl,
ask for help, work at night, dance by day:
in the dark, are they all down there
snug behind those canyon lights?
I tore down the board privacy fence
and opened up my piece of overlook.
All night lights swim through high-density
housing at the bottom of the canyon.
Up and down, to and fro, headlights,
tail lights, brake lights, shimmer
in the near atmosphere.
Further up the terraced far side
lights slide like beads along a string
stop and start, obedient
to intermittent red and green.
Above the rim, seemingly afloat, detached
from earth, glows a mega cross
erected by Our Savior Evangelical Church.
The Walmart, built on landfill, is open all night
for those who pull the late shift I suppose:
its a super store with groceries
and a Burger King. Who watches
their children I wonder, while they work:
those people of the traveling lights?
Chevron gas has a taco shop,
their sign twirler at the intersection
has grown old in the eighteen years I've lived here.
Lately he's been sitting on a folding chair.
The dancing cow with the sign that says
eat more chickin has disappeared.
Once there was a waterfall feeding fresh
to the lagoon. Egrets stood in wetland shallows
and hidden in surrounding willows the tents
and shopping carts of those who frequent
freeway exit ramps with cardboard signs:
please help, anything will do.
A need for low cost housing the city said, baffle the flow
against potential flooding: developers may build there.
Buena Vista Creek declares a billboard: units start
at five hundred thousand. But the creek is gone.
Are they all down there, those who shop, twirl,
ask for help, work at night, dance by day:
in the dark, are they all down there
snug behind those canyon lights?
*****************************************************************************
This is one of the NaPo poems originally titled "Midnight's All A Glimmer". One of the few 2021 efforts I think is worth editing and tinkering with. The last 2 stanzas are additional
I tore down the board privacy fence
and opened up my piece of overlook.
All night lights swim through high-density
housing at the bottom of the canyon.
Up and down, to and fro, headlights,
tail lights, break lights, shimmer
in the near atmosphere.
Further up the terraced far side
lights slide like beads along a string
stop and start, obedient
to intermittent red and green.
Above, seemingly afloat, detached
from earth, a glowing mega cross
erected by Our Savior Evangelical Church.
The Walmart is open all night
for those who pull the late shift
I suppose: its a super store with groceries
and a Burger King. Who watches
their children I wonder, while they work:
those people of the traveling lights?
The gas station has a taco shop,
their sign twirler at the intersection
has grown old in the eighteen years I've lived here.
Lately he's been sitting on a folding chair.
The dancing cow with the sign that says
eat more chickin has disappeared.
Once there was a waterfall feeding fresh
to the lagoon. Egrets stood and the tents
and shopping carts of those who frequented
the freeway exit ramp with cardboard signs:
please help, anything will do.
A need for low cost housing the city said,
baffle the flow against potential flooding.
Buena Vista Creek development: units start
at five hundred thousand. But the creek is gone.
Are they all down there, those who shop, twirl,
ask for help, work at night, dance by day:
in the dark, are they all down there
snug behind those canyon lights?