Cloister-ed corporate commuters
Squeezed in noxious rows
And encased in tubular steel
A clan’s compulsion
Just streaking underground
All privately yearning
To fly-out
To nest
On stronger shoulders
Flocked in winter’s softer wool
As if they were
Moths encircling
That security light
Outside
My mountaintop backdoor
Loathe the New York City Subway system...Sardines in a can with the twist lock as the guarantee that all will remain exactly how hey entered, til someone opens the lock...But at least w/ sardines, each time you take some out of the can, you're not squeezing new sardines back into the can...Unique W(RIDE) RITE! ''''''''''''FJR
magnificent transition raises speculation on life and folly. masterful deliver. -Tailor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love the style to this one, fresh and alive! Thankyou for sharing it Love duncan X