30 Jan 2018

Worms turn beneath flowers as the birds await their feed




Flames cascade down toward the earth
Fitting exactly between the collected tall buildings

Workers, mothers, preachers of god’s word
All run for their lives

Soon after the white cumulus turn blue, then black
Snowfall is reported but

This city
My city destroys any purity long before it can reach us
 
Its concrete surface remains clean
As we fade into evening and disturbed sleep

The streets clear except for a broken toy
Springs and cogs poking from the innards

As we slowly turn from the sun yet again
Surplus fumes and winter death

Words drip to a stop for all the tired writers
For today there is nothing

Good
To report