Saturday, November 11, 2017


Now Considering Eschatology

they burned in all-terrain vehicles
on abandoned graffiti highways
tires whine on paint, bud light cans
rattle teeth in unseasonable mouths

they did wheelies
while people milled
tried to bury or bring
feeling or question to the surface

what is America?
what is reality?
are there ghosts
and if so, is death real?

pavement buckles
vents for heat underground
to burst through, volcanos
of memories time can’t hold

graffiti changes each visit
some strange chance to make
a mark on time, which disappears
foot prints in dust, now
considering eschatology

guardrails taken with scribble
rocks painted so drunks
keep their feet in neon dark
trees, lovers trysts, breathe
wonder, why silver lips
huff dozens of empty
waiting spray cans

we are scavengers
we are scraping at the sides
we are alive, wondering
if this is another dream
another chance to fail
an epoch with fear

surveillance films of  bacchanals
cemeteries cremate
bodies, already buried, bones
dust and earth, there can be no
zombies, apocalypse is a word
often overused

--Jason Baldinger

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