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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Cityscape


Image by Flickr.com, courtesy of Al Brady/ HAWKEYE


He stumbles
Along merciless sidewalks
Mumbling
Cursing
Mind assaulted by unseen demons
The damage tangible
Dignity and desire
Evaporate like sweat in the sweltering heat
It’s simply a question of survival

Passersby avert their eyes nervously
Flickers of humanity doused by fear
Could I fall this far?
Permitting the thought to drop
Down the street grate
With their secrets
And their cigarette butts.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, 'A' List Toads, in which Fireblossom challenges us to write a poem using some or all of the word lists on the post