On the plains of the city…
thundering hoof-beats drown out the freeway.
Wide-eyed, the bestiary of the streets runs wild
with its snake-hiss voices and spittle-flecked lips.
Fear grips the crowd: no easy ride, no car tires
nor wheels on this road, no means of escape.
Closed eyes, flared nostrils, blindsided by panic,
the stampede mind rushes headlong, headstrong,
turning and turning in the dust-dry wind.
© BH, 2023
thundering hoof-beats drown out the freeway.
Wide-eyed, the bestiary of the streets runs wild
with its snake-hiss voices and spittle-flecked lips.
Fear grips the crowd: no easy ride, no car tires
nor wheels on this road, no means of escape.
Closed eyes, flared nostrils, blindsided by panic,
the stampede mind rushes headlong, headstrong,
turning and turning in the dust-dry wind.
© BH, 2023
Another poem rendered in parts. For the illustration and also for the idea that each segment has a kind of stand-alone-ness.
Above all, it's a suite / poem about the madness and panic we've engendered in the world today. For all the good it does us.
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