The City on the Burning Hill

I

The late spring sun cuts my backyard in half.

My mother says something to me

    Relaxing in the latticed shade of electrical pylons,

But it's muted on the wind

And I'm wiped away like a sand dune.

 

I drift from the sun to the moon

And I see the stage splayed out before me.

The city on the burning hill glows as it rises out of the bay.

I breathe in the sweet smell of moisture

As rain sinks into my bones

And the pine forest glows with vapour

Under a deliciously chilly grey blanket.

 

II

Gaia reclines sensually across the continent,

Her red hair flaming out in the Atlantic.

The fingers of Her left hand elegantly stir up tornadoes in Nebraska

While Sioux dance in a frenzy upon the palm of Her right.

Green hills caress the curve of Her hips

And Her orgasm shudders down the west coast,

    Toes curling into the soil

    And crushing glass cities rolled out in red-white-and-blue fabric.

 

Dirty Old Men leer at Her breasts from corner offices

While scribbling down tattoo sketches

And turning them into empires;

    Empires built atop the liquefied innards of Construction Workers From Detroit

    And run by Cubicle Denizens From Manhattan who have bad posture

        And spend their days choking on dead dreams.

 

Dirty Old Men plant their foul erections on Her body

    Courtesy of Coca-Cola and Ford and ExxonMobil

Buying petty seconds for their names before She swallows whole and digests the lot of them

    Along with their offspring

In millennia yet to be born.

 

III

Cities of fire and broken glass sprawl scattered and splattered upon seven hills.

In the shadows of palaces,

Teenagers frolic and stroll in the streets of suburbs,

Smearing their artistry on garage walls,

Toking by the riverbank

And thrashing ecstatically in the back seats of their parents' cars.

 

Some of them steamroll storefronts on their way home from school,

Shouting slogans from the Protest Without a People

While Maryland burns in the flames of Missouri.

 

Night-time neon bacchanals thump municipalities with cardiac energy,

While elsewhere;

    Hearts bleed out and mingle with tears on the Senate floor,

    Hands smear bodies with rainbow paint and march with a purpose on Providence

    And blankets are held to the shoulders of the homeless,

Youth blood rushes and rages like lava screaming from mouths in the earth.

 

IV

A train clatters across a lonely deep-breathing Texan night

While silky wails of love explode upon the stars,

    Looking for companionship,

    A euphoria-intoxicated prayer that the universe revolves around the Earth.

Rainwater trickles down the insides of my eyelids as I try to sleep.