I am no welderer, but a prospector, scout
–these hands uproot obstacles, sift and lift drift–
a mapmaking contemplative am I, devout
in my quest to find paths ‘cross each foreboding ridge
encircling our abandoned malls, which constrict
any exit from this swelling-marketplace trick.
An architect, yes: but the blueprints I gift
to hands that can execute drudgeries — pout
if you hate this division of labor, are miffed…
though I don’t much care whether you are.
–but, problem: I need to build a bridge.
Bridges are needed (and some of mine are now “were”)
as the center breaks up and spins out to the rim
all things to their camps, bunkers, products preferred.
This problem’s not new, and lest one think it just mine,
it is ours, spread over the news all the time.