Sunday, June 30, 2013

Summer Sonnet 44: Las Vegas

'I am that I am," the voice roared above
to wandering prophets in the wastelands.
And from bleached skies, aluminum doves
defecating peace on to feral sands.

"We have civilized this ancient beast
with air-conditioners and chandeliers.
No longer will we care for the least
freed from unearthly superstitious fears."

Apache blood used to baptize the rock,
now concrete carpets and asphalt unfurl.
Profitable accountants raze the clock
summoning rapine fire that end worlds.

Bottled water and silicon mutes sense
we bury wild prophets in our opulence.

- By Aurin Squire

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