The steam boat Natchez – poem from a painting.
The absence of light
beneath thickening clouds
barely illuminates the steam boats
as they race beneath an eye in the sky.
The black smog clots under the gaze
of a sun that beams all, while the minions
work the engines swimming in grease
They see nothing but clogs and muggy
clouds that reign above. A tinge of green
pollutes the black as if color has blotted from the gloom
It has left an ocular void that observes
the incessant life that struggles beneath light.