The Last of Ike, en homage

Standing guard at the border, like a medieval relic,
But not,
This solo sentinel of curving metal, criss-crossing frontiers,
Believes in its own dimension
In space.
Red shapes silhouetted against blue skies,
Remains
Separate from the circus-go-round,
Grounded
In Earths wilderness of
Non-place.

Mimi Peterson

The rail tracks are symbolic of the city’s industrial history and of its resilience. Today, freight trains cross invisible social-political red lines, transversing invincible creeds from then and anxious people of now. Twisting and turning, do we recognize our direction? Practice our options? Can freedom of choice exist if systems erode? mp

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Summer Rift

A rift in the clouds frees
Sunshine to wander across land,
To measure Earth's
Arbitrary borders,
Remnants of life, 
Patterns of growth, 
Outcrops of color.

A rift in the clouds frees
Sunshine to wander through space,
To measure Earth's
Infinite boundaries,
Endangered by decisions,
Denuded by actions,
Human by conscience.



Mimi Peterson