I walk
for many blocks
to pass through
shifting shadows cast
from massive mountain monoliths
of steel inlaid with glass

In grand
stalagmite majesty
we build a floor to raise one more

A rapid rise
for strategy?
or but a thrust
to phallic metaphor
of man obsessed with potency?

I am a
microscopic
speck who strides
for miles on broken streets;
New York City beats inside
my sanctified old soul

Rain splashes off
the high-rise domes
to blend on end
with penthouse mist
of smoky fluorocarbon
grays and intermittent flecks
of black flake tar
off old flat roofs,
sun baked and cracked
by long neglect

Water
slowly fills
a buckled wound
exposed in sunken old concrete,
as pigeons dip their yellow beaks
to drink from pools of petrol slush
that eddy at the curb

Edited 8 time(s). Last edit at 03/03/2022 07:45PM by easyeverett.

I know It sees me...
It always knows just when I'm there
and then It feeds me...
with walls of stone and glass and air
and then It tells me..
about the place I once belonged
upon a time that never was and leaves a memory so strong

"stalagmite majesty"...now there's a poetic image. Well done, Tom.

Joe