{"id":1044,"date":"2011-03-13T01:16:32","date_gmt":"2011-03-13T01:16:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1044"},"modified":"2011-03-13T02:17:18","modified_gmt":"2011-03-13T02:17:18","slug":"michael-thompson-311","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/michael-thompson-311\/","title":{"rendered":"Michael N. Thompson, 3\/11"},"content":{"rendered":"

Fault Line<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

Beneath electric wires,<\/span>
\nTime clock prisoners<\/span>
\nTo a 40 hour chain gang<\/span>
\nScurry to subway stairs<\/span>
\nAnd ashes of the night<\/span>
\nLook grey as cinder<\/span>
\nTo those sifting through the slime<\/span>
\nFor bargain-basement cache <\/span>
\nRush hour pedestrians<\/span>
\nAnd grizzled panhandlers<\/span>
\nStraddle the invisible fault line<\/span>
\nBetween decay and the modern world <\/span>
\nBarkers lurk outside<\/span>
\nOf taverns and taquerias<\/span>
\nFor dancing establishments<\/span>
\nCoating the crossroads<\/span>
\nOf the Tenderloin <\/span>
\nThe not so soft parade<\/span>
\nOf Jesus freaks<\/span>
\nWith their signs and bullhorns<\/span>
\nWho try to shove their version<\/span>
\nOf peace on Earth<\/span>
\nDown throats of the unconverted<\/span>
\nNever cease to disintegrate <\/span>
\nThe static of trolley wires<\/span>
\nCrackles over the downtown hum<\/span>
\nOn the fault line<\/span>
\nAnd there\u2019s more to this town<\/span>
\nThan bohemia and cable cars<\/span><\/p>\n


\nShangri-La<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

This is Shangri-la<\/span>
\nThis is where I live <\/span>
\nIts where school girls<\/span>
\nMoonlight as prostitutes<\/span>
\nNear the motels<\/span>
\nAnd taco trucks<\/span>
\nOn Western <\/span>
\nWhere plastic stars get blisters<\/span>
\nFrom the ego stroking<\/span>
\nAnd the yellow brick road<\/span>
\nCan seem empty<\/span>
\nEven with a feast of friends <\/span>
\nThe Laundromat air here<\/span>
\nDoesn\u2019t disintegrate<\/span>
\nUntil I cross<\/span>
\nThe county line<\/span>
\nInto Thousand Oaks <\/span>
\nBeyond the lamp\u2019s blur,<\/span>
\nAngels and marionettes reside<\/span>
\nIn a sun-kissed town<\/span>
\nWhere fame is the biggest whore <\/span>
\nAnd it makes me wonder<\/span>
\nIf I am the only thing<\/span>
\nThat\u2019s real here<\/span>
\nIn Shangri-la<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Fault Line Beneath electric wires, Time clock prisoners To a 40 hour chain gang Scurry to subway stairs And ashes of the night Look grey as cinder To those sifting through the slime For bargain-basement cache Rush hour pedestrians And grizzled panhandlers Straddle the invisible fault line Between decay and the modern world Barkers lurk […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1044","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nMichael N. 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