Painting by Scott Naismith

What was it that they thought to own?
Decades, centuries kept intent intact.
And, still it calls us, stone by stone,
To eke out meaning from mere fact.
Observatory, temple, some Cheops’ whim,
Or shaman’s riddle in which power hid?
To appease the gods—or find them?
They worshipped trees; dancing, they understood.
We are mute questioners–beguiled;
Token pilgrims properly impressed.
Someone sees the pagan truth defiled.
“They look like Rothko’s!” someone can’t resist.
Their shadows stretch behind the level sun,
Shuttered in bus windows, one by one.

Gary Steven Corseri is the grandson of Ukrainian-Jewish and Sicilian-Catholic immigrants.  He has performed his poems at the Carter Presidential Library and his dramas have been produced on PBS-Atlanta and in universities, high schools and Little Theaters.  He has published 2 novels, 1 full collection and 1 prize-winning chapbook of poems.  His poems, articles, fiction and dramas have appeared in hundreds of global publications & websites, including: Countercurrents, Redbook Magazine, Village Voice, The Miami Herald, Atlanta Journal, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The New York Times, and Transcend Media Service.  He has taught at universities in the U.S. and Japan, and in US prisons and public schools.  He has worked as a grape-picker in Australia, a gas-station attendant, and an editor.

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