Man in America taking stock of the thin ways of the wind
the paths it crosses as it lurches ashore and silences mountains
the taste in the air as the wheels take the traction
spill it over the tar glacier formation and fragmentation
hey the wheel tastes of yesterday the speaking in the air bag
keeps it hot and magically turning aside hair from eyes
the newspaper seems alive as it limps up the way
its stories now forgotten as the sun has set and
the minds of the civilisation are set on avoiding each other
the air that shoves its way under the earth
the city is made of tunnels and the networks
are waiting for the ground to break it
the man with the hammer and the man who shakes his head
helpful distance, the heat is missing from their lives
as the ways of division are explored
the gaping hole in the ground opens and swallows
their ignorance
the world may never end this way
1 comment:
The Moon
shines
on a cat
Meow
As a native Swede, I am particularly proud of my love poetry suite Sonnets for Katie.
My Poems
My wallpaper art Babes!)
Yours,
- Peter Ingestad, Sweden
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