Thursday, September 17, 2009

Poetry Year September 16

The city falls on city falls, glass cascades upon the glass,
sheer sharp surfaces, to infinity reached,
stretching ego to ego's climax, an erection monument to Man and men.
If we build as we build, we demarcate the limits of our humility.
But if we fail to reach and strive, we offer up our humanity.

How is it so that the worst of very worst,
creates an urge to face the elements of time,
bare forth these, the shining spires to the sun,
that reflect the skyscape above,
and the face of someone touching her lipstick slightly,
before rushing on to shop at Sack's.

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