/windowface

Waiting for

Venetian lines lines lines crammed crumpled under paired square staring windeyes. Gaping sash crooked mouth: what spilled out? What content behind the solemn concrete paintedwhite brow? No nose: can’t smell the dim plastic pipes creeping over the dank dark wall. What flows? What ghostmonster lurks silver bullet train[ed] all eye in that mouth, behind those maskpanels, under that surgerysmooth pate?

And below in the smelly alley what night, carts cats rats what denizens, what thieves beg the terrortall citytowers MERCY, FORGIVENESS? What small snakes ache blind among the weeds beside the drains while pale geckos wait with suckered fivefingers grasping what surfaces are left to them?

Waiting for light sun day waiting for warm songs of children waiting for wild things to eat.

What do you think?