Friday, May 29, 2009

Why the City Library Sleeps

The Industrial colossal canyon
Creeps within wires,
And the kids whisper without lips.
Words bleed ink-driven souls
Between lightning bolts.
Books are stolen while the lights
Go out;
This is why the city library sleeps.

It does not know of dreams or
Nightmares, but shakes dust from
Hourglass houses.
The candles have all burned their
Welcome with rushing cold wind;
Computers tear light from throats,
The way we breathe around corners,
Like ripping roadmap shortcuts
From veins of fingers on keyboards;
This is why the city library sleeps.

The clouds wrinkle rain to exude
Upon windows of laptops,
Like pebbling teardrops gathering
On eyes of people who have
Forgotten to forgive, or
Condensation of memories collected
On rearview mirrors because young
Lovers have forgotten to remember
To look back; or like eyes of spiders.
This is why the city library sleeps.

The city library does not speak.
It listens to tomorrow but has
The past written in stone.
The library knows not of
Wishes, but preaches values
From rooftop churches, bells
Ringing for hopes of people
Who listen without judgment.
Telephone towers trace languor
Children and shake couch pillows;

T h is C it y S
Is w hy Li b L
T h e Rar y E
S .

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