Rock dove
seeing people flock in the city
on the leaden street
I wheel above
in all that nothing
clear of sign or chant
but to a child
Poems on the topic: city
Poems on the topic “city” on Poets.by.
Gentrified
in as mourning a dress
as a clock or an auditor
we mourn the city
and we mourn the street
the change of a great place
into money
some strange fit
of tooth on tooth
Seer
night is coming
and the whole city is in on it
though nobody told me
I know what I see
I sit quietly with the strangeness
my mind full of voices
like a dialect I understand nothing of
Riot
called to riot
like any life
no matter no peace
we riot for a self
and a silver spoon
now found guilty
like a raw black word
the rope is older
than the indictment
all lands given to the great
city stomach
Industrial revolution
I spoke with coffee
like a dark ear of night
and went out
into the leaden street
men carried the weight of the fields
yesterday today and tomorrow
through the city
Lake effect
wings over the water
where I am drowning
the sound of a dark city
like night breaking into rain
Inner city
in the city is a city missing bread
for the swan on the water
but the other made of fear
begins to decay like mad
the street cursing in 42 voices
that money is not to eat
Reinvention
done with our only sugar
and only me
we hunt a home like the best spoil
walk into the city to be changed
I am ashamed to have seen
a common town
At the butcher’s
a pot
to carry away the blood
evening in Venice
Short-order cook
The city: a great experiment,
there where I never found
a clean plate against tomorrow,
paying many little debts
and all things in a hurry of business.
As cook, looking over my work,
I ate nothing but bread and cheese
and bread and butter.
The sailor’s life
A year at sea, and
the worm in my heart
is like a train through
a city I never heard of.
Urban decay
This new, great stir: who killed the city?
The poor in morose clothes,
the two queens,
the wine in many places?
Or the great fear?
Fanatics shine at night.
We found a neighbor with no arm.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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