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T E R M I N A L T A W N Y T H R O E S
heavenly pixels
lay your slender screen
alive with diffused vulgarity
softened like a breath upon
the magic mirror
like soot from the coal fires
of an ancient era
when piston driven wheels
spoke night shifts
and wayfreights
hatboxes and trunks
on laden carts
arise sweet forgetfulness
wakened from the slumber
of the dead
like narcotic flowers
perfumed from seedmonies
shimmer in the sunset blaze
of a hot medium in a cold
transfixation
zoom and save
tag and delete
while a score on the
waiting room headphones
play its pallor of sadness
the stiff season
holding everything locked
in its rigor
of ice
and burial drifts
Editing stage:
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Comments
Seren
Sat, 2014-01-25 09:15
Steven
Some of this was beyond me I made connections as well as I could but the lines that did resonate are just breathtaking, There are flashes of greatness shining through this poem, I was blinded here and there.
a pleasure to read, as always
love JC xxx
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats