We crawl through bleak, dusty streets
in the belly of belching vehicles
spew our acid rage
grey skies we greet
I choke on foreign syllable fumes
la con-ta-mi-na-ci-on es ho-rri-ble
metal monsters snarl and lunge,
blare their horns and swallow my words
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LOVE it, amber!
ReplyDeletePoems are angels that swallow monsters without a sound . . . you win. Love hearing about the creative techniques in the previous post, too (Mar. 27th?) Honorable justice and creative approaches to inner/collective peace . . .