One Shot Wednesday poemage

Rush Hour

.
Shuttling
between work and home
the highway slouches lower
and buildings curve, loom
overhead,
meet and merge,
a tunnel of masonry
and windows.

Disembodied faces
peer down
in impassive disregard
at all who pass
this way.

The empty panes
stare more intently,
perhaps in sympathy.

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29 thoughts on “One Shot Wednesday poemage

  1. I haven’t ridden a subway or done a city car commute in many years, but you put me right back there with this one. Deceptively simple, but it conveys that whole sense of there being an automaton on both sides of the glass, with the only thing left alive in an artificial world the space between. Pleasure to read, as always.

  2. At this time of year my drive to work is through a canopy of green where the trees meet overhead and the only beings looking down on me are the birds but I found the image of your buildings curving – a man-made canopy of brick and glass – just as captivating Matt. I have a young poet friend who loves the beach and the countryside but who has to live in the city. He’s all but homeless at the moment, begging beds from friends and family and spends a lot of his time wandering the streets but he told me once that he sees beauty everywhere – the tall buildings and scaffolding are his trees – and your poem reminded me that what we see is often what is within us.

  3. Captures the disconnect this most grating heart of urbanization can stir in people…it’s never pleasant, for any of the senses, and nothing makes one feel quite so isolated…

  4. Yeah it can be a horror, but once in a blue moon it can be fun or at least a tad enjoyable as some sights make it worth while. But 99% of the time it sucks, Great write, with wonderful flow, no gas fumes sucking up our air..haha

  5. This poem, simple as it is, sucked me in immediately. I felt it physically…and that rarely happens to me.

    Simple? In words (few) and form, but deep, profound in something intangible.

    Loved it.

    Lady Nyo

  6. I’ve often wondered, during my daily commute, what the houses and buildings and trees all think as I pass by. Now I know. Good poem, Matt.

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