Worms turn beneath flowers as the birds await their feed

Flames cascade down toward the earth

Fitting exactly between the collected tall buildings

Workers, mothers, preachers of god’s word

All run for their lives

Soon after the white cumulus turn blue, then black
Snowfall is reported but

This city

My city destroys any purity long before it can reach us

 
Its concrete surface remains clean

As we fade into evening and disturbed sleep

The streets clear except for a broken toy

Springs and cogs poking from the innards

As we slowly turn from the sun yet again

Surplus fumes and winter death

Words drip to a stop for all the tired writers

For today there is nothing

Good

To report 

Untitled (seasons)

I want to live where it snows

Every single winter

To awaken before a jagged horizon

Where mountains block the sunrise

I want to live where it is too cold to rain

In the autumn

Only orange leaves dry and

Crunching underfoot

I want to live where the summers

Defeat the average man

Where women and children wilt and

Rejoice in the searing heat

I want a billion stars shining each night

Wild animals prowling across my porch

A post office and general store

And a small bar in which to get drunk

I want this simple string of things

I need them as you all do oxygen

I need them both alone and not

Alone

Hidden in the dark of night there must

Be a road straight and true

And

Out of this town.