Dan Uriel

The City

on the outskirts of the city
collapsing at dusk
like tiny bats, soft
soft flies on wings
deposited like guano
this is how this age sits on our souls
and like heavy rains
thick rags to wash dishes
the chipped topperthe stonemason
in vain he erases the sadness from our hearts

but not humiliated,
as far as under the stars
we rolled our eyes to the ground, unlocked
a secret locked in the ground
just look, dear goods
that went wild, the machine
fragile villages crumble together
like a puddle of weak ice
the plaster of cities is crumbling
if he escapes; well the sky beats

while enlightened beautiful
our ability, order
by which the mind acknowledges
the finite infinity,
the production forces out there s that
instincts in here...
this song screams on the outskirts of the city
the poet, as the relative
watching, just watching, falling, just falling
fat, soft soot, deposited like guano, hard and thick

Topic(s) of this poem: cities, real life

Poem Submitted: Saturday, September 19, 2020

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Comments about The City by Dan Uriel

  • L Milton Hankins (9/19/2020 11:55:00 AM)

    I was intrigued by the imagery of this poem, and, I felt it was an entirely appropriate look at the city today. Good work, Dan.

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