|
Catching Sways |
By paved avenue sided planes
your delicate hands become barren
same as a gun's barrel held by a child
by endless commercial shows, adverts,
your sodden eyes become desiccated,
fingers on a handle angled upwards
a thousand voices in your head, sing grimly,
echoing turbines over emulsified nuclear flames
where proof is thrown away daily-
there, this heart dwells, yearning to listen to yours
for here, in Vienna's storms and cemeteries,
skyscrapers and ghosts, this world is often
secondary next to the sight of your heart.
copyright 2003
Francisco
Dominguez |
