THIS KINGDOM
IS MINE
(nyc, 2013)
I made this kingdom, every quadrant and
angle, each lintel and door. On high, the
great beams, suspended, remain - to
stretch the great arc and the reach of the sky.
Pastoral smoothness, lights of the land,
horses in patterns, the grid of the streets :
each of these send something back.
This Kingdom Is Mine. And the sky
shall fall and the buildings crumble
as flames descend from the Heavens
and trumpets sound. I made this kingdom,
I made it all - and I have kept it and
held it and revered what I made. But now
the ending begins - not that I wish, but
simply that it now must be.
-
Lightning on hammers, water on ice,
the constant drumbeat of all that which
flickers away - those horses, now sick,
running free and wild again, through
the remnants of Central Park.
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