Stay with me, little angel,
closer to thought.
Careless reminder of deep patterns
of asphalt, grey,
laid at each street’s corner,
forgotten by traffic lights and wardens.
No one sells tires anymore…
Only horseshoes, either too small
or too narrow for the inhuman
centipede called life.

Every night, wildlings of old
crawl into cobwebbed wombs
of ghetto shelters,
imagining christs and absent messiahs…



2 thoughts on “Genesis…

Please Leave a Reply 👣

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s