By J.J. Tindall
CHICAGO
I created myself
From a dank creek.
A fusillade of selves, really,
Self-made and re-made
From an orgy
Of trade.
Jerusalem and Gomorrah,
Giza to Gaza,
Gargantuan Ozymandias
Of stacked prairie mud.
Steel shoulders,
Digital loins,
Concrete veins,
Railroad nerves,
Spun-glass skin
And a billion gallons
Of blood.
Blitzkrieg of egos,
Black hole of souls.
I sing the bawdy electric:
Song of my selves,
A million maws,
A murder of caws.
I am an oligarchy
Of letters and laws,
Bettors, debtors
And broken jaws.
I stun the soil,
I blanch the lake,
I am a barrage
Of makers and fakirs.
Precinct after precinct
Of gated villas,
Cadre after cadre
Of mind guerrillas.
Wireless tentacles,
Mind-forged manacles,
A whirlwind reaped
And heaped.
Dreams
Like the hurricanes
Of Jupiter.
Wicked, crooked, brutal.
Coarse, strong, cunning.
I sing of it,
I linger in it,
I binge.
I am Chicago
And I made myself:
Look upon my works,
Ye mighty,
And despair.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on January 24, 2015