Graffiti People
descending from the train of night
thinking my way through the crowd
black dreams with suitcases
coats brimmed up
faces erased in blankness
heading for the exits
dispersing like mist lifting
over daytime street scenes
throb my mind
deep in this evaporating place
where images swirl their garbage
and photographs of faceless corpses
etch their likeness on my plates
newspaper headlines surface
like soggy rags
a mother crying love
starving her parchment-bodied
three year old; museums with
black and white renditions
of bone-heaped pits; madmen murdering
the foster parents of their own
demented childhood
bared to its obscenity, the city
shows its daytime scarred face
and far from sleep now
I, clad in hood and cloak
write graffiti poems with its blood
return tickets to anonymity
of the night
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© Johnmichael Simon
2009
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