the last city

I dreamed a city
          of long and windy alleys
and streets engulfed by shadow
cool still, like a masoleum:
except for the vague rustle
of the offerings.
   
they found stone slabs is Turkey
on a quiet sunlit hill
          with the grass rippling
buried in bones--I think an altar
of asphalt--

I would lay all of my
cities to rest--
               by silent girders
the mirrored haze
rising to the skyline
the reflection of leaves
--in the fetid puddles

      in some unused corner
by the steps, rest
by the trashcan--