2 Spiridon Konofaos

In Submission on August 17, 2010 at 4:14 am


I can remember long ago
when the sky was full
of birds.
Droves and scores of perfectly
steered animals
spanning across centuries,
across miles,
never drifting apart.

Sky now only speckled with bits,
clouds humid and thick;
the trees sing only with wind
passing leaves.

Multitudes of bees once flew
alongside dandelions puffing pollen
from the ground.
An epidemic
of death in the tribes;
the hives,
of the bee kingdom.

The flowers breathe a little thicker.
The notes of the world change,
morph into sounds made of metal,
flaming liquids.
Granite fields that only house
tufts of weeds,
and shards of glass.
Asphalt-goo producing temperatures
-the scents-
from the lowest reaches of hell.

Like leaves slipping from the trees,
the world slides into another season
of oil slick cities
and developed country sides.
Countries so big they slowly affect the world
and its position
in time and space.

-Spiridon Konofaos, Tampa

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