Echoes

I hunt echoes and intimations in this namesake place

Of maybes and might have beens

In bricked and mortared past

In the curiosities of the consigned

Remnants of revenants reverberate

In my imagined mystery I bend rules

Explorers plant no flags of conquest

Mapmakers erase artificial borders

Ditching nation state madness for universal rights for all

I hunt echoes and intimations of alternate realities

Where wonders are invented daily

By wild eyed inventors who live in towers

I look for a world where art is valued more than commerce

Where assimilation is a word not found in any dictionary

Where style and grace matter more than brute strength

And in this quest I briefly hear

The last fading notes of a steam whistle pulling away

 

 

David Trudel    © 2013

 

 

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