Here at Pugsley Creek,We found the soup
of Bronx life, emerging from under the landfill,Middens of Bronxes past,
Once marshes beneath our feet now roadbed over crushed mountains laid over the detritis of our pre-decessors, Just Here,
Where the Soup og Bronwes livelihood emerges from man made seemingly dry land,
Out to join Long Island Sound, on it's way into Hell's Gate,
Soon past the maelstrom just past Riker's Island, and the runways of Idlewild.
See the slide show: http://bit.ly/Expedition2PugsleyCreek-1
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| Multi-media feedback loop - I picture them picturing each other, her picturing me too. |
Slides have caption poems,
To the left you see the landfill, accreted over the Bronx's centuries,
And just here, a retaining wall holds back our waste, like a spoon squeezing a tea bag.
And that rivluet emerging - Our Tea,
Heading for the open sea.
Essence of our run-off,
Everything we pour in the earth, just upstream, into our catchbasins and sewer grates.
Everything we pour in the earth, just upstream, into our catchbasins and sewer grates.
What seeps from our cellars, and drips from our cars.
What you dropped, just two days ago, and kicked to the curb.
Here, distilled and blended with the actions of others -
Bronx Tea, the soup of our lives.
And to the right, more of our ecosystems,
Waiting for the nourishment the once march has always brought here.
Eating our soup, Bronx Tea, the essence of Bronx Life.
You OK with that??
You hungry yet??
You hungry yet??
