Cityscapes

Unknown broken Vaterland stones and bones both distant and locally obtained.

Every place feels the weight of shame, the heritage of dedication.

geborn oct. 8 1834 gestorben nov. 11 1893

What is closer than the breaking of a new horizon, a clean wave splits a plane of the insufferable. This century’s greatest taste a soured jam. A flavor to be melded.

Is it ever possible to think of anything other than death?

Pulled to Jim Morrison’s grave by whiffs of weed roaches clip the stone plate, smashed by distressed pleas.

“Do you really think someone tried to make themselves whole, find a cipher to the code?”

I hold to a gray Berlin winter like a Sunday tied shy.

Like your cadaver eyes sewn closed and your pleated lips stuck dry.

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