Outward-bound Caravanserai of the morning,
held hostage in funereal processioned mourning,
a churning slow,slower tide of
of flow and ebb interpreting
the coded frequencies,
green-yellow-red-yellow-green-red,
start-stutter-stop-stutter-start
along concreted arteries of commerce,
industry,trade,trading one place
for another,one place after another,
bartering,leveraging circadian rythms
for gleaming glittering moments
of the here and now,now and gone,
lost amid homeward-bound Caravanserai,
traversing capillaries of the
gridlocked grinding ephemera
of another day consumed
by hubris.
(Louis Kasatkin has asserted his Right,etc.&so forth…)
Hi Louis,
I like this one. Very much a “snapshot” piece.
You’ll maybe tell me about “hubris” when we next meet.
Regards – Howard