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Stephan
Poems
Aug 2016
There on the corner it stands
...
There on the corner it stands
Black thicket jacket
Tightly fitted nightmare
Hemmed in borderline madness
Dancing on a fractured curb
Slightly off balance
But never falling as its prey
Watches on, hypnotized
Wavered movements
In sprayed graffiti howls
Wrench a stoic moon
Against fevered night skies
A coin is tossed,
Shining under the streetlight
Rotating on its edge
Carved lines fluctuate
As steak dinner lockets
Hang around the alley
Whistling at red painted fingernails
Leaning in open car windows
Waste finds its place here
Among the silent, the grey
Brick faced contractors
Belly up for the feast
Table cloth capes
Splattered with last weekβs gravy
Brown stains sliding past
Iron gate exits
Yet there is no exit
No entrance, no sidewalk
Or city street to sleep in
Cardboard box condos
In this realm nothing exists but it,
Clutching the unsuspecting
Drinking fear on the rocks
Icy glares in frozen glass
So, wander if you will
Past the crowβs stare
Beady eyes searching
A crooked pathway, and you will see
There on the corner it stands
Written by
Stephan
Camp Johnson Crossing NW
(Camp Johnson Crossing NW)
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Autumn Rose
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Mary Winslow
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Weeping willow
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