Vacancies: The Tire Dump

19 04 2011

Aka the one that lasted less than 24 hours. . .  When I returned the next day, they were already removed, making this the third piece that has had a short life-span. They were gone before I could get any quality photos as well.

Seeing numerous piles of tires dumped in vacant lots or roadsides, I decided to play around with language, putting creative language where commercial language typically resides. (Unfortunately, it was still trash to someone.) I wrote this short poem specifically for the tires.

This is more commentary than I normally make alongside a poem, but I feel like giving some background to what brought the piece about. The 1st Ward was once the site of a Civil War mass grave — over which Jefferson Davis Hospital (now Elder Street Artist Lofts) was built — and I saw a connection between these acts of mass disposing of “expendables.” Two improper burials, with wider social implications. The subnarrative–the underlying connection–is the mass pushing out of people of color–having first dumped them into the ghetto then pushing them out again now that this land is desirable.

Dump us
in mass
graves, like
confederate
dead, like
runaway slaves
caught
between
breath and noose.
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