forward to come to the
place of hanging wire
the autumn of electric civilization
moss growth on the canopy towers
walking alone
the cables droop like my steps
as sinking into pot holes I watch
into the long lonely paved distance
there is no ride coming to tell of the here now
end of time
I am in possession
of the last threadbare pair
of mournful jeans
the last immutable skeletal remains
a faint clicking of branches
brings the final static fall
of the human forest
blinding smoke whiter than ancient
cloud bodies drift over the corpse of
the summer afternoon
there is no temperature left
all the mercury having sunk
into my skin
I can no longer find pockets
for my bloodied hands
I can no longer find skin
to cover their naked flesh
the distant shriek of amnesiac
cell phones have replaced even
the oldest bird song
the last human voice lost to antiquity
leaving a message I am not
sure I understand
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