WAITING FOR THE EARTHQUAKE the dead who can be named the dead who are pointed out the dead who will never be embraced in memory feel their hovering near us in our waiting time between oil and money comes the fate of the practice of violence the rattling noise of our metal animals and the humming in our ears of a wind rising through the belly of earth where lie bodies of ancestors let us speak frankly of the end of the world that was so grand and of a new world of things falling buildings bodies wealth but not the same rain we have known and called by name now many millenia the old rain holds back the new rain is in a new sky smudged pierced by the practice of men