The sky scrapes on concrete, and
The seasons on skyscrapers.
The sun drowns daily in tired wastewater and
Strangers’ unmet eyes.
This wherehouse civilization, made of
Living Iron, all of us
lonely amidst multitudes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
"wherehouse" a clever play on words on sentiments of anomie and homelessness in modern life together with the architecture that most conveys this mass, anonymous quality
ReplyDelete