Notes About The Poem

Victor Gruen was the main inventor/architect behind what is now the American mall. He wanted them to initially be community centered places where foilks could gather and engage with their community. However, like in many things, capitalist interests chose to take Victor's design and twist it into a parody of what it originally was meant to be. It was about shopping and materialism rather than community. Now as malls wither into desolate concrete carcasses, and America is as isolated as ever, I thought of how Victor Gruen would perceive what happened to his creation. Thus this poem. Written in 2022.

The Carcass

In this landscape, lies a nest 
made of brown brittle leaves, 
cracked asphalt, 
and tire flattened filters
this creature, stands 
broad shouldered and stupid
with a flat face and eyes
open so wide they are windows 
offering a glimpse into 
the bones of a building.

Yet there is a maw so wide and welcoming, 
as if by design 
we wanted to be trapped 
like Jonah, deep inside 
the festering stomach 
of a dying Leviathan.
The air inside hangs stagnancy 
like meat from a butcher’s hook
For years, no atom has moved 
an inch, not even the neon
would dare to appeal to its bright nature.
This cursed Frankenstein,
 this ghost of a golem
stays stuck in a vacuum of time, 
doomed to the disease 
we all lovingly call nostalgia.

Down the throat is a linoleum tract, 
the pathway echoed out
Conversations, a background hum
Where Marcy would meet Chaz 
at Corndog Palace
Little Marcus would suck 
Slimer’s fruit based concentrate
Aerosol spray coated the shelves 
full of the endless adolescent days

Here we were meant to forever wade 
through the swimming crowd
soaking in drum machines and vaporwave
Now just a concrete carcass, 
you suburban eyesore
the corpse of Victor Gruen’s
idea that could have been 
so much more.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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