into the thaw of a dying winter
I have come to find you
beneath discarded shoes of bridges
where red rust is the graffiti of the sky
written in the blood of the rain
you are born there looking up
unspoken black in the hollow of the pipes
the channeled water in the hearts infrastructure
where bones find innocent children
to ask about the gravity of birds
beneath it all Styrofoam cups fragment the wind
with answers along the trespass of fence
in voices cut with broken glass
thick against the brick walled stumbling night
of spring
Comments
Hello
Good to see you posting again. What a vivid description of urban decay/despair. Only change I'd make would be to say bridges of shoes. Have no idea what a shoe of bridges is.............stan
Thanks for your comment Stan.
Thanks for your comment Stan.
The Cleveland Flats is a narrow valley criss crosed by old bridges... once an industrial area,
but now home to a few bars, and struggling establishments...always trying to revive itself.
The referance to shoes of bridges refers to the fact that people sleep under these bridges, and you
often find bits of clothing, and discarded shoes. I simply see the bridges as the new owners because they offer a bit of shelter,and connect with the idea of being abandoned.
B
Oh made happy to see your
Oh made happy to see your poetry again B,
you splash your vivid words just like the graffiti of suburbia,
with little incongruities that flavour the whole with character.
Love it. Ann.
saw a collage by Kurt Schwitters
I came back and saw a collage by Kurt Schwitters which took me back to the Cleveland Museum when I was there with you, there were some fine modern paintings there and this is another one.
Yrs Ann