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"I lost a world the other day."

Just before sunset, a thunderstorm knocked out our internet, so we're at my mom's in Leeds.

It has become safer for me to guess how any given tomorrow will be worse than any given today than to dare hope for a good - or just mildly better - day.

Today, for example.

I've spent three months avoiding the Birmingham Zoo. What has been made of the place where the Birmingham Zoo used to be. I had some inkling how bad it was, but not until today, when I paid $37 to look at one of my own worse nightmares, did I grasp the hideous fullness of what has been done. The zoo that I loved, a beautiful park of old trees, has been leveled, bulldozed, and replaced with an eyesore theme park, complete with a waterslide and carousel (no, really). It is almost impossible to find even vestiges of the beautiful old zoo, which I first visited about 1968, when it was still the Jimmy Morgan Zoo, and which was still mostly in one piece when I left Birmingham in 2002. I cried. I actually fucking cried. And I will never go near that place again. I want everyone responsible to suffer for a long, long time.


8:11 p.m.


( 3 comments — Have your say! )
Sep. 25th, 2018 03:08 am (UTC)
I'm sorry. That's horrible, I'll never understand why people want to replace beauty with concrete and kitsch. Fuck them.
Marc D. Goldfinger
Sep. 25th, 2018 12:24 pm (UTC)
The poet Lew Welch
Was way ahead of his time. I'm reading his book "How I Work As A Poet." And I quote,"Cities keep getting bigger and bigger and faster. People inside them, get more crazed. Lots of them just can't do it anymore." And he wrote that before he died by suicide on May 23rd, 1971. On that day, in a deep depression, he walked into the woods in Great Nevada with his gun and he has never been found. He was living with Gary Snyder and was going to build a small cabin on Allen Ginsburg's adjoining land but he found his peace instead. A great loss to the poetry world, and the real world itself. He truly spoke Truth to Power.
Sep. 25th, 2018 09:09 pm (UTC)
This is, sadly, the cost of what the proverbial they call progress: tiny bits and pieces torn away from memories and inside ourselves. And I know that saying this has no salve to mend; it truly is like tearing down paradise to put up a fucking concrete madness parking lot.
( 3 comments — Have your say! )