Monday, December 2, 2013

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 1983 - Helga, 79

Two rivers give their names
to one mighty stream.
They triangle a golden point
at their union
A helter-skelter of sootened brocks
                is reborn in a shimmering renaissance
of steel and glass!

High buildings point upwards
                like steel-fingers of a giant,
a giant, that has fallen
                into restless sleep.
Idle hands walk the streets
                in despair,
still searching for the golden crown
                in the dust!

Like the first George
                I stand on the mount alone
and look down on three rivers
                with iron bridges too numerous to count,
and wish –
                I could see with Indian eyes!

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