Saturday, July 01, 2006


I am
the last bastion
in a sea of concrete,
a see of storms
in the heat.

Before me,
my twin lies raped,
torn asunder by steel,
a place to play games.

Between us there is water.
That is good; it has
been unseen here.
But it does not flow anymore.

That constant noise that resembles flow
is not happy.

steel dragons growl
in passing,
a never-ending series of them
that land nearby but never say hi
like they used to.

Are they depressed at being enchained
or at seeing the glass shards and paint
that deface me?

Distant kin watch from the dust-haze,
but the nearest are harder to see
through the smog,
those brown clouds
that eat away at reality.

and still another dragon comes.
Maybe this one will say hi...



Blogger MichaelBains said...

That's a great series, Jay.

I got the impression it was all the same young voice in war hammered world somewhere.

Well done, dude.

7/17/2006 7:45 PM  
Blogger Jay Denari said...

Thanks. Actually, they were written at two very different times: the last two were done sitting on a hilltop in a park overlooking Phoenix about 6 years ago(the "place to play games" line is a reference to ASU's Sun Devil Stadium, which was blown out of a small butte). The first one is a recent revision of something I wrote about 10 years ago here in MA, sparked by a day I spent covering the police beat for the paper I wrote for then. It was inspired by someone named Kristel who got arrested for prostitution & drugs.

7/24/2006 5:06 PM  

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