On Glass


What is the expression of experts of knowledge,

With the outlet consumed, dusted, and gone?

Where do ideas go? – At night

Rationality out the window when prowlers lurk.

Garbage landscapes; prison barge

The dinging buoy, the droning lighthouse

Can you smell what has taken over?

I envy the Wasaki Clan and all they have

To offer to the mineral industry.

Clean and precise;

Cold calculation.

More efficient than . . . mathematics

It is the theme of understanding.

Wait your turn; the wheel comes back shortly.

The twisting sonic blast of sunlight on a clear day.

The blood gets pumping these days

The thronging multitude is out in droves.

On the street, in droves.

Out on the pavement – lifeblood of city

The city thrives

The city is out in droves.

I wonder . . . what is below the city, if not pipes and tunnels?

I think back on childhood, peering at the ground.

A puddle on the sidewalk after a passing rain.

Sky is clear and I look into the mirror of the water.

I see objects: light poles, a hydrant, edge of building.

I remember pondering the possibility of a parallel universe

Below the city’s surface,

Seen not through the puddle’s mirror,

The water’s window.

View sinisterbuilt's Full Portfolio