NOSTALGIA

The world 
we worship
is now 
where bad breath
starts the cars
and the stars
in the sky
have less meaning
than chandelier crystals
lost in a small box
inside a larger box
stacked high
in the moving van
and tied down
with cords
that play music 
you never wanted
to hear.

The city

is dark
with sidewalks
that crack
with the rising
of shallow graves
and the roots
of trees
that are patient
and persistent
as they push
aside our 
chatter about God and Destination
and the Rights of Man 
to conquer the earth
with stakes and
flimsy symbols
of power,
the trees
crack the sidewalks and destroy
the water pipes,
and the damn thing is
that we know
the forests
is only just 
getting started.