from Dan Disney’s “Mannequins Guide to Utopias”

Monologue inside Breughel’s first Tower of Babel

the colonists always pack old spectres 
and memory, mad apparition, peers through cracks in day 
we scatter into, our words
ascending across air… and once that’s out, silence
fllas like love, but permanent, empires lying dormant (unstuffed
toys) we’ll kiss the photographs flat when gone 
while wrong-headed statues promise nothing yet to the gods 
new foregrounds arrive, unrecognizable