our grave hearts crave in the dead night

old arms of night have taken our city abreast

our nameless faceless city

sweating/stinking

a broken-down mosaic

red rotting brick/dilapidated alleys

sheltering dark looms

drain pipes drip hot

fire-escapes uproot themselves

from failing architecture

music falls onto the street from open windows

a morose violin wheezes out

adolescent/untrained notes

lungs of animals

and men and women

expand and collapse

singing/speaking/crying/loving/hating

in this city/all cities

this throbbing/beating/machine-heart

in the infantile hours of morning

black money is changing hands

our grave hearts crave in the dead night

i wish i knew like the old trees

another first story of time

our morning street is warm

with the golden coming

from blood and a beating heart

life as it runs off the feet of men

and women singing

swelling undertones

harmonious high keys

distant sirens

lost in leaves

men like the grey trunks

overgrown, tired with hating

old men pedal past

flashing golden smiles

dry lipped

dancing

in dim daybreak sun