Cage aux Folles
In the cages of single women captive in cities
The aroma of sterility lingers in the air
After they leave for offices in banks and stores
And I, coffee in hand, stare through the glass onto a world of
Cages: London, Paris, Hamburg or Turin
And turn the pages of my life's lusting
Back to an unmade bed.
We are urban nomads, Spengler said
We are not triumphant here and never shall be
Till the green blade bursts the asphalt's crust
And the ceilings crash in the temples built by Pharisees
To welcome the winning sky turned virgin blue
And sea-winds whistle through conniving office-rooms
Where once the circulation of the air was thought-controlled
And bare blond children, bald and bold as acorns
Thrive in the fields of ever-green grass
Thrust their feet through the dust of tumbled temple walls
And mock the mortgaged past.
First published in Ambit Issue 167, 2002
The aroma of sterility lingers in the air
After they leave for offices in banks and stores
And I, coffee in hand, stare through the glass onto a world of
Cages: London, Paris, Hamburg or Turin
And turn the pages of my life's lusting
Back to an unmade bed.
We are urban nomads, Spengler said
We are not triumphant here and never shall be
Till the green blade bursts the asphalt's crust
And the ceilings crash in the temples built by Pharisees
To welcome the winning sky turned virgin blue
And sea-winds whistle through conniving office-rooms
Where once the circulation of the air was thought-controlled
And bare blond children, bald and bold as acorns
Thrive in the fields of ever-green grass
Thrust their feet through the dust of tumbled temple walls
And mock the mortgaged past.
First published in Ambit Issue 167, 2002