To My Never Was

travelling to my never was, my yearly time in the yard spring time back to cold Ohio gripped in nonsense and melancholy I travel to old town misted by the cuyahoga surprised yet not I find they tore down the tottered house tar paper and clapboard hoary hand pump out front jutting out of upturned earth like an oxidized finger accusing at broken chimney collapsed walls 19th century brickwork sharded toppeled into fetid basins the neighborhood's harshbitten scar open wounded by the treelawn old man who once lived there trapped in darkness and exile haunts it no longer memory freed by oiled machinery and progress rooftop split like broken amphora scattered on the seabed and so floats my enmity thermal up and away updraft and ashes drift'n bulldozed and scaffold dissipating on warmer breezes as if it never was...