Downcast City

The city is sick today.
It is infected by something invisible
Dictatory winds, bright morning
In a cup of smoky tea in the late afternoon
Poisoned by specialized vision;
In Einstein's dead brain.
This disease is not pneumonia,
It is something that eats everything of thought, intellect, creativity, cerebrum
This disease eats our senses.
This city today is in an devil’s mood
Eats the power of values and merit
There is no sky in this city today
No birds are flying in the evening air
In a naked city, there is no definition of integrity
Here, just behind the fog across the yard,
the blooming flowers, carelessly cry!
There is nothing in this city today.

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

This is indeed a poem for our troubled times HB. We are living with the menace of an unseen phantom when we can trust no one. Your poetic images have expressed this well. All our former certainties have gone.
Well done!
All the best,
Alan

[jacob erin-cilberto]

This is so good, HB...
I no longer live in the city, but I have imagined it often in the past year.
What my old neighborhood would feel like, look like, on Sedgewick Avenue.
The subway empty, no boats on the Harlem.
no traffic outside our fifth story apartment window.
a Sick City...the city definitely in a Devil's mood.
j.