i. the pulse of the street
pushers and pagers and sex
capitalism.
ii. the air becomes still
cold, inhuman flourescence
even here, we die.
iii. in bright orange robes
the panhandlers migrate
in time with traffic.
iv. art is graffitti
fragility and transience
in grey paintstick eyes.
v. the crowd mills about
datagrammed packets flowing
without words to say.
vi. from inside the glass
the rain falls upon the street
words fall from my heart.
--
Decklin
Written with Debian GNU/Linux - http://www.debian.org/
Jade Tseng
Decklin Foster <fos...@hartwick.edu> wrote in message
news:1999103019...@plish.dhs.org...
*~*RoseMary*~*
*~*The only true fear of the world is the fear of the unknown*~* --Rachel
Ensley
*~*Forgive me father for I AM sin*~* --Little Witches
*~*Mister, we are the weirdos*~* --The Craft