Musing while flying somewhere.



Addendum: I was remembering this poem by Dana Gioia.

Cleared Away

Around the corner there may be a man
who shop by shop, block by ruined block
still sees the neighborhood which once was here,

who, standing in the empty lot, can hear
the vacancies of brick and broken glass
suddenly come to life again, who feels

the steps materialize beneath his feet
as he ascends the shattered tenement,
which rises with him in the open air –

story by story, out of memory,
filled with the smells of dinners on the stove
and the soft laughter of the assembled dead.