Today the sky.
Today the sky 
and it RIPS the birds.
The birds rest on the 
dirty wind.

Over the arches
of the. Over the 
pinch & punch of
a roaring stream
of endless buses,

over the dead park
and into the faces.
Boys crash their
ball into the painted
trees. Tumbleweeds

of plastic strands push
into the doom and
the sky is. Today.
The sky! Bad smoke 
from a dead man's pipe.