Ubi Sunt

Where are they?

A Poem!

ubi sunt

you be sent
who be sent
woe be sent
you bis ant
you be sunned
summoned
and sent forth
who was
went forth
will be
out towards
ramparts
impart
wisdom
and so forth.
Stop the bus.
Who went forth
from these wheels
rode with twelve
plastic grocery bags
in hand
no hands
to help
just a shuffle
to make space?
face in phone.
face in phone.
face in phone.
faces glowing 
together alone.
tough shoes
those,
made to stand up in,
made to walk in,
to sojourn--
ubi sunt
-- across land masses,
across oceans,
across streams,
or streets,
or houses,
and fields,
forests,
and man made
lakes or 
tundra. 
Shoes made for
those genes. 
In the spinning 
ladder that formed
the spine that
holds stiff
the flexed shoulders
and arms
that lift
when the bell rings
and steps through the
bus’s double
doors towards
another door 
with a code lock
and more 
stairs
behind it–
up
those 
steps
too.
ubi sunt
donkey packed
mountain pass
canyon upon 
cliff face upon 
sun beating
desert mounds
of sand.
wandering.
seeking land
with milk 
and honey.
Hell,
I’d settle for some 
water,
a sip of what I 
lost in sweat;
just
let me set these down.

In wordy wordiness,

Walter