  This pavement and the sordid boast of stone And brick that wins the pity of a sky Are only martyred symbols made to buy A dream of permanence for flesh and bone. The jumbled, furtive anecdotes of lips And limbs that bring their fever to this street, They will subside to fragments of defeat Within the cool republic where death trips. This is an age where flesh desires to shape Intense hyperboles in prose and verse, Transforming city streets and country lanes To backgrounds aiding physical escape. But city streets are waiting to disperse With ruins the fight and plight of earthly pains. |
|
