Short Skyscraping Poems

Seafaring Foreigner 

In steerage on a steamer with
Figs conceiving in Vesuvian soil 
Hidden in a pot of a sturdy trunk
Made of hope and adventure. Fear of
Sights unseen and joys unbeknownst
Of sons and daughters yet.

Hazy canyons of skyscraping giants 
Overshadow brick row houses
Hard at work, ethnic pride
Shameful bathing, worn-in
Clothing and nourishment
Beyond the return to 
Much worse....

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Oh what a pity
that in David's great city
they built a skyscraping tower.
the which to describe 
my poor words lack all power.

Those who dwell in its heights
enjoy rapturous sights
of the noble city below,
where those in the pit
who look up at it
are denied a commensurate show.

Now who  had the cheek,
if you let me thus speak,
to call this 'the Holy Land'?
If its name had been 'Babel'
I'd be better able
to explain the way things stand....

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Highway sliced
Geometrically whispered
Into your eyes
Silks down through your mind
A limpid sighted magic spell
Fibonacci’s stepping repelled

Bilateral storm
Trapped by duty
And boxed voids
That familiar smell:
Skyscraping cylinders
And footnotes

It zips aside
High-toned warning
Like elder numbers rhyming

Prepare for abstract cosmovision
Liquid language gasified into strings
Softly spoken touch
Of the sunset mist
Morphing everything...

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