The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    Joe Wood's picture

    Neda's Song

    By Joe Wood on Sun, 09/05/2010 - 7:45pm |

     

     

    The streets

    So crowded

    Like some

    Revived ancient fleet

    Swept back from the dead

     

    A bell came ringing

    Like a telepathic human alarm sounded

    I saw numbers in the street

    Painted bright red

    I saw the monkey's head--

    Cut off, by it's feet

     

    Like a full scale family reunion from Tabriz

    Or like the sound of 16,000 dreams

    Or,

    Like a drowning country

    Could breathe

     

    Wrists

    Floating the sound of pulsing green lighting mist

    A mysterious trumpet was bleeding

    With slashes of freedom,

    Like a hammer that found itself writing

     

    The heart of the city was pounding hard

    As the claws of a two-headed lion

    Was fighting

    And reading

    The ringing of the bell, awakening

    The sea

    Like a gigantic statue, moving

     

    Shards of glass and fire

    As the people roar

    And as the streets were swept

    It grew late

    While the land was still singing

    Marg Bar Dictator