Sign of the times

Turn right at the fallen statue
Past the spent shell casings
That litter the flats
Till you see the charred bones
That don't seem real
Until you smell
The unmistakable smell
Of burning flesh
If you reach an olive grove
Stroked by the sun
And hear the quiet cooing
Of those who sleep without fear
You have gone too far


Anonymous said...

IO? Coyote? IO? Coyote?

coyote said...

Definitely the IO. A talented poet in his own right. I recall an early groundbreaking work, OC Transpo Hell very fondly....

Anonymous said...

Since when do coyotes ride the bus?

The Chair said...

I see they've finally put those signs around town directing one to the U.S. Embassy.

The Independent Observer said...

Thanks Coyote. I'd forgotten about OC Transpo Hell. Look for the forthcoming sequel, The Story of O(-Train).

coyote said...

Does it end badly...?