Wednesday, February 17, 2016

7820. THE SMOKESTACKS OF CLEVELAND

THE SMOKESTACKS 
OF CLEVELAND
I've not been home in many a year, 
the highway's calling once more : 
smokestacks in Cleveland, the river's 
red roar, concrete ribbons on top of 
the shore. How can I hear with all 
noises beneath me, I'm riding,
I'm riding, once more...
-
Well the smokestacks in Cleveland 
once made a fine sight, but they're 
finished and gone now these days : 
like the steel mills in Bethel, empty
and light, the wind blows through 
nothing but echoes of fright. We are
emptied and finished, gutted and trite,
the smokestacks of Cleveland once more.

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