Acapella nights
Neon illumes corners until
Hardened concrete shines dull
The bastard of the mind
The bastard of the mother
Societal bastard of collective refuse
Venetian canals - old piss and old shit
The Grand Canal (St. Marks
Is flooding again, old shit and old piss)
City underwater; city sinking
The music in the head of
Next summer's acapella nights
Back home, as in being,
Being in ruins before the backdrop
Of skyscrapers, side by side,
Roman pillars engulfed by
Shopping centers and tourists
A boon to our bygones
This view from the gutter-loft
Pacing to the beat of thought
Rocking in the chair as
The pen in the hand writes
In a filthy yet inviting room
Writers write for one reason
Two halves twined together
Like imagined tassel dangling
From a opened curtain
One half is to transport,
Or conveyance of idea(s)
The other half of the motivation
Is to provide relief ...
The world is a monster
Preying on itself,
The world is
A phoenix rising.
