The shining city
on ancient industrial hills
at the center of the great river
from which the waters
of the four oceans flow
lived the saint who sold
a parcel of land
the size of heaven
for pennies on the acre
so the billions starving
in chicago’s dark satanic mills
knew now where to go.

A procession of trombones
and french trappist ghosts
welcoming the huddled masses
onto casino riverboats.

Through the great wide open hole
between Liberty’s loving breasts,
those seeking fortune flight and fame
pass beneath the gateway to the west.