Virginia City
Virginia City
By Jennifer Randall
A messy history, she and I have together,
I went up to Virginia City
I always go back there as I move on.
A messy history, she and I have together,
Are still audible,
Embellished by silver.
Dusty tales told by old codgers
Are still audible,
Skirts rustling the floors
Those who wore the wear
Leather vest and bearded,
Skirts rustling the floors
How each sound spoke antiquities.
To empty hundred year old hallways.
The sound the plank sidewalks make under my feet
As I peer in vacant facades
To empty hundred year old hallways.
The echo of lives and opportunities passed.
Hoping the walk prevents damage and decay
To the graveyard on the hill,
You can’t drive up there anymore.
Hoping the walk prevents damage and decay
Of babies, 30 year old heroes,
As people pillage stones and iron decor.
To capitalize on the grief and memories
Of babies, 30 year old heroes,
I bury my own restlessness.
Camel riding Grandmas.
And I too, bury something here
I bury my own restlessness.
The fights and fortunes remembered.
Maybe history is right,
The tough and mighty endure
The fights and fortunes remembered.
Precious and the beauty against the rough
Because the elegance fades and rips like
Silk awnings,
Precious and the beauty against the rough
The authors and artists
Landscape.
The relentless winds of time and changes.
The authors and artists
We can’t compete.
Whose whimsy and creative inspirations arose and are buried here.
Delicate. Too delicate for this life, under the weight of the Comstock Lode.
We can’t compete.
Lizards, who hold much more still than I in the desert sun.
Those of us with eyes on the sage,
Wild horses
Lizards, who hold much more still than I in the desert sun.
And I too, bury something here
I bury my own restless wind.
