Urban Poem-

We are made of newspaper and smoke.

We dunk roses in vats of blue.

The birds don’t call- pigeons play it close

to the vest.  When the moon is full

we hear it in the sirens.  The Pleiades

you could probably buy downtown.  Gravity

is the receiver on the hook.  Mortality

we smell on certain people as they pass.

-Douglas Goetsch

Advertisements

~ by shantam on September 22, 2007.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: