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Oct 2015
Clanging friction on a steel ocean...
tale telling graffiti rooftopping.
Moment face-offs, superimposition
on a mind-screen.
Lampposts and steel beams cutting
sunlight, as it swims through surly
silver subway cars.
Drum roll shadows blowing blue
smoke brick.
Wearing and tearing all knowingness'
superstring hair...willing what wills.
Too many times here, rapacity lives
its death...you can see toes bust
through sheikh shoes, and curl.
Too many times here...too many ways
here, the next stop forgets itself.
As straphangers rock in the Eternal
Now...and those seated uncomfortably
on juxtaposed rows, play eyeless tag.
Playing down a pitless ground,
coring out their reserved space.
As panhandlers jingle change, irking
noise sensitive, sensitivities.
X-ed out by perfect attention to the isle
floor, staring at the colored bits and
pieces--****...to ride on anonymity's
most crowning achievement, in the
most populous American city.
Force feeds one the fullness in emptiness...
as a street musician steps on, waiting to
strike a guitar string.
(Unstruck Sound)
Onoma
Written by
Onoma  NYC
(NYC)   
647
     Onoma, --- and PoetryJournal
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