Eat the Heart

I have seen more poetic roadkill. A set of birds wings still attached in the middle as if the body and head were of no real consequence. This was on the shoulder of the road in the dappled shadow of glorious Mississauga autumn foliage. The last time I wrote about a missing wing it was in Phoenix in 2002. I notice them. The cars take them down and then the scavengers finish them off. I admire the elegance of this particular scavenger. Leave the beautiful and fragile pieces to rest. Eat the utilitarian heart. There is art in this attitude. Which factories will make the best ruins come the year 3000? We see the ruins among us now. Boarded up buildings and half finished construction projects. Should we not think about each building as a potential ruin and design it for life and death? Without death there is no change but let there be some interesting sculpture in what is left in our wake. Until the moss, ivy and daisies cover the rounded mounds of centuries old development we first have a century to live with the ruins. Eat the heart. Leave the wings.

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