Los Angeles in August, 2005…

So far, I’ve seen no angels, I did,
however, observe a robbery
in my first hours within
the ravening maw of your heavens-home.

Los Angeles! Do you get tired
of your bustling bliss? Do you wish
the devil’s kiss of greedy need had not
besmirched a city’s willful advertisement
of its own divinity?

So far, I’ve seen traffic of immense
catatonic internal combustion brushing
against death of progressive sandwiching
of living. And, I’ve seen butterflies dancing
in fume-filled shrubbery, oblivious.

Los Angeles! Can you overcome
a future destined by obtusities?
Do you think, once the earth winks
and wrinkles it brow, you will, somehow,
escape your embe dded fate of shifting tomorrows?

So far, I’ve been nearly run down,
and have had sound used as a weapon
against my senses, blatting and battering
my self-environment, my containment
of myself, of something else
besides materialism, and speed.

Los Angeles? Have you clipped your own wings
in an attempt to win self-improvement’s panache
with furious devaluation of human lives? Can you
survive yourself? Surely a city concreted with
your angel-allure has a plan for devolvement?

So far, I’ve had to come inside,
to hide from your devil’s eyes,
after an hour of observing
an angel’s city, which unnerves me…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 8/2/05