
sketch: out here on the sidewalk

rumble through the concrete: droning
ceaseless bestial groaning
feel it deep within your skullmeat
tingling tiny bonies
great machines of city streets
hulking yellow ponies
stabled for the night in peace
asphalt pastures wait for morning
oh ho, not so fast,
my poor taxéd machine
a red oily conveyance
bugs wriggling in me
a wreck
over the bars
of the machine
crown of the head
inverted
sick taste of bile
the back of the throat
tossed by immutable laws
wet tears in eyes
an animal
—
Logan Bright