Random City Sounds

Random city sounds
Deafen worshipers foolish enough
To listen
And to expect to hear truth.
Beauty bludgeoned.
One blade of grass cries
Toward threatening skies.

A tempestuous void
Where the eternal nothing
Begets yet nothing
And the wispy something escapes
Through the screen door
‘Round the back
Of the alley which has
Both ends
Marked as exits.

Midnight and mid-day collide
In the exhausted exhaust
Of communal fetid breath
Aimed at the final flicker
Of a once courageous flame
Just a moment
Before it’s prancing death.

No Coney Island of the mind,
Rumbling in pained ecstasy
The city is cruel
But not unkind.

Resting its head on a pillow
Of tears,
Hoping to find a restful sleep
Random city sounds
Flow slowly
From the sidewalks
‘Cross the curbstones
To the street.

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