A Stumbled Forest (Stockpiled Like Littered Flags)

With the abundance of humbled limbs and littered flags
(How we got here, and where we are now)

Sincerely swindled, the troubles piled like broken accents
(Like stock, or others' truths)

Burdens like trials like trying/broke-down trains
(Tugging along these two-timing traintracks, persuaded to sing/mumble this damned anthem)

We're all too homesick and so house broken
(Anxious like stubborn stock markets)

But in the distance
(And through these empty spaces and their signaled echoes),

A setting sun, like an allowing toll-booth, reassures us
that sand becomes mountains become monuments become sand
(Nothing can ever stay precious on a sinking ship)

and that barricades are only as decisive as we make them
(So we sway back and forth/forth and back with the motions, hoping to reach anywhere or elsewhere)

'No homeland ever', the tides hint; 'No homeland ever'.

A Stumbled Forest (Stockpiled Like Littered Flags) by this is limbo
Paper Mache, housepaint, Oil and Acrylic on MDF . August 2011