the plow

the bulldozer
has no sympathy for what
was here
before.
what wood, or steel rose
from the ground.
there is no sense
of history, or love,
or memory
of things
that happened here.
the shovel knows nothing,
but to move
forward
and plow under,
so that someone can begin
again,
go forth.
the plows never stop
in this world.