Songs for the Suburban Sacrifices

Behold the Grand Unity
Worshipped by Emperor Wu!
It will take many scholars
To interpret these lyrics

Composed in the time of plague.
The leadership of red dust
Blows drifts around these suburbs,
And I ask you, Tell me which

Of these ruins—the houses,
The churches, the theaters,
The half-finished restaurants,
Highways under construction,

The parks, the closed shopping malls,
The enclosed shopping centers,
The fountains in golf courses,
The reopened office parks,

Or just this dust around them,
Accumulating small dunes—
Is the greater loss, the real
Disaster? We think we know

Well-coordinated work,
Complex architecture, art
When we see it. We think we
Are thought’s apex personified,

Encephalized, intricate.
We think we can organize.
We think these suburbs are ours,
And any ruins our own.

Could it be the genius lies
Not in artifacts of ours,
Edifices, rituals—
Lies and is lost in this dust?