Sunday, May 11, 2008

38. Old New York

Huge steel beams swinging silently
to the noise of soft skinned men.
Grinding fears driven by grinding gears.
A man made city making the man
with eruptions of living around distractions of events.

Streets of instant people going instant ways
with tubes of distant people lost in lonely days.

Tunnels of no love.
Drunk in roar, sunk in roar, drowned in roar.
I's eclipsed by it's.
A logical insanity.

Weak men made auto strong
with empty women made sticksmear pretty,
seeing what their words show them,
knowing what their friends told them,
describing this world as a fact
resting securely on what they dare not know.

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