concrete transformatory

the road that leads nowhere is ash in its tray
the clouds red at sunset are bleeding away
when towns roll by in glass-domino lines
i've eaten my fill, i've torn down my shrines
what once was fire and spirit and rose
is left to a postcard with vacuous prose
"slept in this morning, just like all the rest;
send love to mum, wish you all the best."
a violin-song once promised me fountains
of freedom, but gave to me only mountains
a traffic jam in the side-streets of my cells
an empty cathedral still ringing my bells
hoping in dusk for only a tithe or a heart
untraversed waters of blood there to chart
to deliver into
some kind
of liberation
from


rhyme and

rea
so


n.


so

i guess
ifoundwhatiwasn't


looking
for


and never
wanted

in these
sidewalks

and
nazca lines
across my
wind
shield


i see that
the prisoncloud lens
is shifting
north

the oceans
of green
will crawl into
gray

and these roads
will die




i
think
it's time
to head
home.