The Rhythms

I wonder. Are you aware of the rhythms

hidden under masking of machine noise?

Cold, blue, fluorescent lamps humming overhead,

central air flowing through metal tubing.

Outside, keeping time with the ticking clock

automobile, train, and bus, moving human herds.

Crowds are talking, away from workplace tasks

moving in time with some invisible metronome.

Silent city lights keeping time with the Sun.

Tilting, twirling of the globe rules us all.

Reviews

[13ft fall]

I think this is a perfect example of a common denominator in all your poems. You have really good ideas and philosophy. But you dictate. Ages ago I had a prof. tell me the best advice I have ever had with any art: "Give them an image. Something they can see, something they can touch and feel. Let them understand the emotion and figure it out from that moment that you place them into."

Don't tell me about the rhythm, just present it and let me understand it.

Cold, blue fluorescent lamps humming overhead...
Is a great idea, but it's dictation of a scene. What if it were something like:
The industrial lights pierce my ears like frosty blue cicadas
while the a/c tries to monotonously drown them out like a
mechanical didgeridoo blowing down the vent pipes.

Use that vision you have for seeing a building and draw out the scape for me to fall into in a 100 words.