Kyle G. Dargan


The glass bottom poem
floats on poured stone
surfaces. The windows
set in its belly
show you nothing—
no arks, ancient relics,
or species paved over. No
more reason to bury here.
People are smallest
shadows of the city. The city
realizes the city and must
forget itself to the ground
to dream its hereafter,
sparkling. SEE THE PIPES
OF YESTERDAY—that is all
the poem can offer.
If you must see ruin, glance
around then step out quickly.
Remember, resole your feet
with the largest notes you carry
lest you disturb the city’s
voracious slumber.

Kyle G. Dargan
Poem, copyright © Kyle G. Dargan, 2005
Appearing on the Fishouse with permission
Audio file, copyright © 2005, From the Fishouse