Redding is growing up -
growing up into its city-size; it's slowly trying
to figure out the form it wants to fill:
the very spitting image of the city without blemish,
or the same, without a soul.
It’s in the middle of modeling a modern metropolis:
spilling out into Churn Creek Bottom where cattle dawdle and meander in cropland bliss;
into the north of Industry where plotters plan and pander the imminent apocalypse;
toward the east of Shingletown where choppers topple trees;
toward the west of Whiskeytown where growers trim their weeds
One day we’ll see this sprawling crossroad as though through a clearer glass -
Right now we cross blank or crosser words while the present turns to past.
In the meantime it’s the mean time & the lean time for the people,
respectively, on that American Dream life
or correctively living the merry old green life.
In either case…
People are here in Redding because they think it’s a good place to be or they can’t leave - let that be - let them be - don’t scandalize their moans or vandalize their homes - whether pre-fabricated or post-fabric made of old clothes. Don’t dash their dreams - there have been reams written on the virtue of kindness to every each - I have seen them with virgin seams and jackets unbleached - browsing used bookstores or gawking at flotsam floating down to Churn Creek Bottom.