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Friday, November 11, 2011
Cold Concrete
There was blood on the tracks this morning
before I reached the first full
stop.
When I passed by that way
later in the day,
the car catapulted
just the same,
just … the same.
Though it makes a living underground,
where dust is merely dust,
I could not smell the death
apart from earthly
must.
Reason & rhyme could not compete
against the cold (and)
concrete.
So let us pause … to imagine
the shattered bone
the soul, incomplete
and the weight of severed limbs
what now separates us
from them.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
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