dream
back by the crossroads
at camp Thirteen
people gone
town bulldozed—
now a glass-littered
mound
and then a wave
of black smoke
ink flows over
Pennsylvania hills
fills the river valley
the demo pile standing
out over darkness
that’s rolling rolling
like Allegheny
hills
like coal seams
underground
surging on
and we don’t know
when
how
it will end
