Any geese who land
are seized and eaten.
People are hungry, thirsty.
We live by a great water
under whatever makes for shelter,
boiling the liquid,
thorough.
Once,
things were golden,
machines sent messages
back and forth,
the heart was studied,
moon and star
as well.
Binary billions
built few and built some.
Of that,
nothing more remains than walls,
eroded.
It seems that
caustic air invades the velvet temple
easy as the gutter
slum.
Streets were
chartered once,
the Thames
also,
and
many took his name,
their various homes to claim
but
Jesus
left a long time ago.
Robert On The Air 