Thursday, 11 September 2014

1 New Poem


I am unlike these shrubbery leaves,
I did not bend to every fleeting nature's
folly, tap shoe performance in drunken footstep,
but, still, still I am unconquered, split

between this city where the shine from
boardwalk railings wore clean through
long ago, and girders from abandoned waterfront
development are piled in convex, called art

and the wide-collar boulevards where postcard
scenes frame the walls and turncoats spin
to a hat-drop of Monday's news bulletin,
but, too, where you flaxen-affix the

black cat follies of costume painter logic
and I hold aloft these pence rags of feeling:
your gaze sympathetic, but not the same.

No comments:

Post a Comment