Wait for History

Sanwa bank

building the temple of karnak

and the scent of a steam engine

and the halls of the faces

that came before me

and the pillars we placed there

the more you push it

the more it falls down

trapped in a musty room

till the process punch puts a hole

through the boards on all the windows

and the light comes streaming in

and it shines on the dust

who am I to know

from which direction

from where the help

I needed would

come thank you so much

for lifting the shroud off of me

so again I can see the grey

for what it is which is everything

the wind and an unselfconscious breast

the wait for history it's not up to me

it's time that decides terra-cotta fountains

all dried up leave it all again

to the roaches when our dirty

sidewalk becomes sheet rock

and history becomes geology.