To mark the 20th anniversary of 9-11-01

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I remember It was a perfect summer day The kind that only seems to occur In early September, With a sky so azure It seemed to glow with some Inner luminescence And the vivid color finish They spray on new cars in Detroit, The ice blue sports cars and Peacock blue sedans.

A day so temperate that The air feels perfect against the skin. It is more an absence of temperature, As if both hot and cold have somehow slipped Below the point of perception and the air Itself has become imperceptible.

Ah, such a day Of blue placid beauty. And then the rains began. In ways fitting for our age, In abstract and surreal images, In some post modernistic vision, With glass and concrete towers Intertwined with airplanes, Add to that the obligatory apocalyptic Flames and smoke and you have a work that Dali would paint, a Warhol or a Max. And the rain began.

It rained paper and desks, Chairs and tables, All the mundane debris Of daily life. And it rained people, Arm flailing, Legs kicking, It rained fire, It rained rock, It rained dust.

And I find myself in a Peter Max Oil on canvass, entitled: "Sage with Umbrella Watches the Collapse of the Modern Age"

By Doug Tanoury

From: United States

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