In clothes made ragged by design
to show the endless flaying of our souls
we walked lonely streets
never failing to draw the attention
of police and older men passing by.
Streets in Big City have their own shamans
who can turn the summer night
to a thing of ecstasy or dread.
Street Picture: power poles rise
like pillars of the temple.
Cryptograms lay hidden
in the signs of liquor stores.
Night fed upon our electricity
and our juices made forms in the air.
Trees reached up like skeletal hands
to grasp the toxic darkness
and held it close to the earth.
Fog hung motionless
like the vague words spoken.
We unwound that night
like threads of an ancient curse.
Left the strands there on the sidewalk,
and stepped quietly away.
A Small Blue Marble 
I like this very much
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. That’s another one from way back, although I don’t remember exactly when I wrote it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A talented ,man, you are!
LikeLiked by 1 person
How is it, I wonder that I follow you yet…as with so many posts from so many fine artists…WP does not show them on my Reader…I never get advised of? I estimate their errors with my Reader…and those of many other bloggers, I understand…as over 1000+. An irksome thing. I shall endeavour to read/view your posts regardless, Sir.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. You are very kind. I get the same feeling with reader. I have a friend who I want to see what she writes, but they don’t show up and then I have another friend for whom I see everything she does. There is some kind of filtering being done I think.
LikeLiked by 1 person
‘Tis annoying. My musician son blogs on WP. I don’t even see his posts without searching for them. A bloody nuisance all round. Should you have the email thing on your blog at least I’d get a message when a post is made. I have one or two followers with that facility. God only knows how to set it up. Technology and I are hardly the best of friends! Best of luck, Sir
LikeLiked by 1 person