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Walked on down the forested hillside through the slowly‑rising silver of early winter haze

Tired trees smothered in some clinging vine, woods littered with plastic jugs, old tires and battered cans of paint


Reached the border of the new six‑lane expressway and watched my shadow dance along the base of a thirty foot retaining wall

And crossed high above it all on a catwalk covered with wire‑mesh to keep the people from throwing rocks on the cars b elow


With "I love Chrissie" on the wall, along with hearts and swastikas...

With the life‑blood of the city flowing at sixty miles an hour beneath my feet


Toss a prayer to the open skies

Like a magic arrow piercing concrete lies

Into the heart of history's long lonesome cries

And now I’m standing here so revitalized


Overhead, like an arrowhead, a Cooper's hawk folds its wings and disappears into distant country

I pass the cold foundations of demolished homes jutting out of the hillside like old man's rotted, broken teeth

Worn cellar stairs leading nowhere...except maybe the imaginary beds and living rooms of just faded years



Where the ghosts of conversation, prayers, and oaths, and incantations still linger

Each step like a question mark to which all these ghosts have no reply...

And a dry wind blows across town and scrapes the weeds against the stones


Old Man King, come and see

Pass some judgement, let it be

So these children can finally shake free

From all these wagon loads of destiny


In front of the old corner church a faded poster of paradise beckons all souls to come on in

I nearly slip on a gob of infected spit in front of the x‑rated theatre promising unknown passion and forbidden sin


Across the oily river the city hums and gleams like some silver-platinum castle in the sun

Where the sun itself is split into ten‑thousand images of hungry, burning tongues of flame

Some guy on the corner says "What you starin' at?" And I say "Never mind, the wizard is gone."

Meanwhile behind curtains of light and shade a hand moves that is really no hand at all...


In this jumble of love and waste

Try and find some sacred place

To hold these myths you've finally traced

Search in every changing face..