They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.
Checking for pursuers.
......
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
......
This life is a hospital where every patient is possessed with the desire to change beds; one man would like to
suffer in front of the stove, and another believes that he would recover his health beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should feel well in the place where I am not, and this question of removal is one
which I discuss incessantly with my soul.
'Tell me, my soul, poor chilled soul, what do you think of going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and there
you would invigorate yourself like a lizard. This city is on the sea-shore; they say that it is built of marble
and that the people there have such a hatred of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There you have a landscape
that corresponds to your taste! a landscape made of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!'
My soul does not reply.
'Since you are so fond of stillness, coupled with the show of movement, would you like to settle in Holland,
......
Mama, come back.
Why did you leave
now that I am learning you?
The landlady next door
how she apologizes
for my rough brown skin
to her tenant from Hong Kong
as if I were her daughter,
as if she were you.
......
Cruising these residential Sunday
streets in dry August sunlight:
what offends us is
the sanities:
the houses in pedantic rows, the planted
sanitary trees, assert
levelness of surface like a rebuke
to the dent in our car door.
No shouting here, or
shatter of glass; nothing more abrupt
......
At the stroke of midnight,
The world falls silent and still.
The moon shines brightly above,
Casting shadows that chill.
The stars twinkle and dance,
In the night sky above.
A gentle breeze whispers secrets,
Of lost dreams and love.
......
These are poems about city life, poems about modern life and relationships, Also poems about cities like Alexandria, Chernobyl, Hiroshima, Louisville, Memphis, Moscow, Nashville and Salzburg,
The City Is a Garment: Nashville
by Michael R. Burch
A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light,—
the city is a garment stretched so thin
her festive colors bleed into the night,
......
If I die here, let it be known
You were my happy place
Not Disney
As the smell of the sewers
Cascade into my nostrils
I think, one day, I'll grab the literati
Of this city and be praised
O' Toronto let down yr hair
And save me from these small town doldrums
That put a chain around my ankles to
......
Roses in gold sheen
glinting fire at hot June noon
Sun washed garden blooms
Sparkling city paved in gold
in scents of summer so old
і знову місто проникає в тебе нотою мі
фонити без перерви саксофонним гуком вулиць
мі мі мі
місто
вмістилище містики
міст
викладений щільними ярусами
як велетенська надбудова
над стисненою від страху ріллею
......