boMbs BROke out along the BowERy chillinG Broadway proudly laughing with maudlin smiles wAvERing near the
MEaty crowds to teary strains of Dixie breathing South wiThout sHaMe opeNing bar dOors sloshing bEEr onto the sawdust floORs grOping grayish keYs sweating on the metal looking foR cancelled chECks while dreaming of
reFinement shaving points off tHE lateSt scam pointing fingers never aware of the danGer inherent takINg long
baths in short tubs of turbulence during the Great DepressION pLaying caRds fOr supper when SuitS entEr the fray

chucKling driving temperatures SoutheasT complaining to the weather forming opinioNS of dusTy snot-nosed
hypocRitEs drugging the world fashioning makeshift religion at eveRY cOrner in gutters in dimestores in earshot of
the highway of dagGERS binding a noose of desIrE around their necks siNging sONgs that bear little
resemblance to thE Waves' fury in the bed OF night when the forest stops bEIng a foREst and the hands begin to

wilt and there's danger afoOT and the keyboARd clicks out a warning to stay inSIde dampening my SPirits bUt rising like a
drunken Phoenix to clap aNd stomp and cheer tHe boys as tHey return frOm war with biTTer tongues and final exam faces in the bitter cold sleet of exPerience when dogs scoWl and run the rIsk of fEEling the breEze of the future torchINg the

cathedrals depositing rooTs in the gutlaNd in the buckets of Fuel left by prevIOus generations through a vACaNt
maze when the clocks jUSt stood by and smiled gaining momentum for aNother HOlocaust framing our doubts
then sPitting thEM out for toMoRROw good luck reading All the trash I could find feelINg lower but wiser in the
blink of time unaBLE to rhyme withoUT first heARing the silent void but still holding onto a pen aNd a visiOn yes

here wE live but Never to return I'm writHIng but to no man writing to stop another deaDLy dAWn in the blue fields they bury us and below the stOnes we find burnt trees and closed wiNdows barEly breaThing filthy with silver-eyed scorn plACating the rich in lukewarm cars with guilty consciences into the NeTHerlands of this great
field in the carnal landscape of watEr and air reAching heaven's aNTechamber and planTINg a kiss and finding great treasuRes of gold and fuRy and wisdom sharing viSIonary wine in a spill of laUghter and dustcoated desire singing sin crying am I the pigEon kicking edgarallenscro heart-attacked every hour on wrinkled righteous esplanades
- Lamont Bridges

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