Foggy Blues

Foggy city


Here is a morning fog

That rises from the snow

To inhabit head-tall space

In lightless glow.

Shapes normally well known

Allow themselves to drift, to flow,

To merge, flux, change

To something one cannot know,

Menacing, indefinable, strange.

Houses bulk, loom to presume

In fearsomeness, destroy solidities

Lean in ways precarious,

Pounce on our fragility.

Their agile smokey grace rest on reptile legs,

Bare jagged broken window panes.

Dragon cars glare laser eyes, growl the streets

To sweep from murk to murk.

Dogs go berserk, howl and bark

At lumps that slip around the dark

With swift retreats that leave no mark.

A garbage can gets kicked, tipped

Rolls to clang a lamp post.

Silence picks the clicks of heels, tacks

A path to intersect our spot. This way comes

God knows what. Better retreat

To a well known street,

Windowside, await the Sun

To burn away the haze

And disentangle streetwise maze.





One thought on “Foggy Blues

  1. When I was a child, on my way to school I had to cut myself through a dense wall of white texture. It was frightening.
    In later years, when driving through moor landscape, I felt very tense because I have had my most precious freight in the car, my little son.


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