I-45

passing life on a bus for the moment.....god i hate houston.

Concrete slabs...

iron pillars...

and buildings of glass.
The endless faces that pass on by.
The porn...

tattoo...

and head shops.
As far as the eye can see.
In the distances of the pollution.
Mans fallen wasteland.

Reviews

[Tempest]

I think you have wonderful images here (not quite pound like someone noted because imagists focus on a single totaling image but very detailed in a short spance, I think you are very talented.

[I.R.]

I love this. This reminds me of this poem:
In a Station of the Metro-

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
-- Ezra Pound

You captured the now, the contemporary life or your city, in just a few words. There is a slight rhythm that catches the ear when read aloud and the choppy form emulates how we see things flash by as we are being driven by the city: they appear for just a moment and then they are replaced by another thing or vision. Good piece.

[Ashley]

Reviews are my vice. I will not lie. I do however love this. With few words you leave a big feeling. That is something I have never been good at. I always feel like I have to write pages to get my point across. Good work!

[Elizabeth Quinn]

This is very interesting ... Mainly because I travel this road much, and it is quite befitting. I am a little envious because I have wanted to write something like this! This was great. Bravo.