New York, I love you

Bike Paths

I am lonely
like a beanpole of
pride
shaking from the
nature of it all

Tumble Weed Brain

It's like some radiating
Heavyweight
Thunderclap

Peppered by a blockade
Of invisible
Militia (guerilla)

Old cronies (in the shape of ravens)
With acid saliva
Nest on high wires - Strung out

The easy breeze
Turned city
Smog & sulfur

The hot-iron stove
Back-burner (I belong)
Engulfs

Hinterland

Clinging to an offspring
She stood beside a sorry
Stone wall
Wailing away like wind chimes

His rabid prairie fire eyes
Poured ignorance like sulfur
Lighting hay stacks and wheat fields
And homes

He said,
I like the blinking lights
I like the buzz
I like the bleak

Holocaust terror ignites her mouth
Nothing, like a covenant
And
One hundred other windy promises

She said,
Sorry you don't like my gingham
Or my crazy eyes
Or our wheat ocean home

Surely?
For a little bit of sky scrapers