. . .
O Lady Liberty,
what will you do with me?
Your corroded, copper skin
hides steel, well, within.

O lady Liberty
too many songs sung at thee
but when the bugles shrilly blow
who will, righteous, Know?

O lady liberty
is your mate Responsibility?
For when you stand all alone
the choir of Hell begins to drone.

O lady liberty
what is your posterity;
the song of Freedom or the Fate
of the Doom of History learned too late?

O lady liberty
please wave, once more, to ‘We’.
As you fade into our mist
do you add another to your List?

O lady liberty
Freed from the chains of literacy,
your Poetry would still ring true
if the words meant more to me than to you.

o lady liberty
my children, you’ll never see,
thinking Winter won’t come again,
sing and dance in Summer’s Reign.


O Idol of Copper and Stone
who left you, there, all alone?
Who turned their faith and Ayes away
and left ghosts to remember and debris to play?

O Archaeology
What does this mean to a passing me;
a piece of copper, a chunk of stone,
an infertile seed the past has sown?


O Eternity . . .
what have I done
to me?