Atlas and Lovers

Atlas and Loversimage

At the bottom

Of the world
Atlas strains
to lift his burden.
At the top,
Two lovers embrace.
The male lover
chained to
rock of earth,
She amorously
attacks
And picks at him
Winged,
Like a tender hawk,
An angel.
And G_d
has skewered
The world in a middle
Place with
His staff,
Like an apple with
a piece displaced.
He suspends it
And holds it
firmly In its’ place.
Atlas lifts only
What he can bear,
although his
Burden is thought
Unbearable,
And the lovers
Although chained
grow anew,
and curious,
suspended,
They
Float In the air,
Their love,
A flame of
Sweet terror
And
Furious.

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On Queen Street West

On Queen Street West

The sirens of the city

are traveling along

the fabric bazaars

and appliance stores

of Queen Street West.

The wood tin spire

of St Marks

lurches into the air

at an angle

listening.

The daylight heat

is blazing.

So is the fire.

The fire trucks

are bullets.

They careen

breakneck down

the street.

Shining

red and yellow cabs

follow right

behind them.

Do they care

about the fire?

The fire is burning

somewhere along

Queen Street

and

black smoke is rising

up into the air.

From “The Black and Other Base Elements “by PWChaltas