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Detroit Sleeps

Rank emissions knit
webs down Thirteen Mile
while mudded spackle
skies taunt us,
withholding their rain.
Glossy new beaver pelt
chrome rolls in
stops and starts
past outskirt strip malls
toward each sprawling subdivision.
(No longer neighborhoods-
we've built our fences
much too high by now.)
The lake-effects have
kissed us with cracked,
bloody lips;
frozen fountains
and plaster statues
wrap us tonight in stony arms;
the frozen soul of Motown
wearily stills us
with a raspy lullaby;
(but there will never be)
down-stuffed comforters enough
to keep out the cold.

26 May 06

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It's hard to get passed Eminem's 8-mile trek in this work, and yet I see that you mean it that way. You want us to see that white soul boy -- at least for moment in the miles of Motor City.

Beyond that, I have to wonder, is


so necessary that each bit can't be made active and vicious?
 — DianaTrees

DianaTrees- I don't know if I completely understand your comment, but I appreciate that my poem brought such images to your mind.  Eminem was not foremost in my mind when I wrote this, but I can see how his story may parallel some things here.

My intention was only to compare the harsh environment of the city with the empty materialism which I've observed there.  I guess your interpretation has at least a glimmer or hopefulness?  Not a bad thing.
 — jerotich