a thaw,
metal machines roll out,
another detour,
another broken line,
a chance to walk down the hallways of my mind,
total up the sum of the days and nights,
the skeleton of a city,
displayed crudely,
crews jackhammer down,
digging into a grave of concrete, metal, clay and gravel,
a boiling tension of traffic,
through torn arteries,
and spouting fluids of this God-forsaken earth,
sitting here,
it is always my chance,
to prolong it,
to shorten it,
to get the logic of it,
to take it too far,
traffic unlocks,
metal machines twist free,
things just are,
I will try to be.
1 comment:
Another great versification that demonstrates the discipline we need to exercise every day if we're going to keep our heads above the toxic sludge of modernity.
Nice job, HP.
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