Wrecking Crew

You’ve already convinced me
that this abundance of buildings
obscures an artificial resonance
between your eyes and what
they can see. I liken it
to waking up without opening your eyes.
It’s that superficial. But I am
repeating myself. What is there
to gain from tearing down
this apparent structure? Only the past
is there for judging. The present
is yet undetermined. If I had
a jacket I would wear it sometimes
so that I could hang it eventually.
A chair would make a good frame.
Only leaning. You said these buildings
are like words, just that they stagger
one on top of another. So that you cannot
distinguish where one ends and the other
begins. Call it a wrecking crew.

By Joshua Keiter

reader, writer, actor, singer, teacher