Here in the belly of this city
I cannot see.
I hear, and imagine.
I'm so blind to your beauties,
So asleep to your presence,
So thoughtless about your conscience.
I close my eyes and I can see
Stone buildings
Shrouded in a cold, blunting mist
And my weakness.
Neon burning, and Mr Lowry stalking by.
A view of steam and snow,
Of box grids and girders
And echoes of seawaves.
Stark skytower scraping, grating sun.
Strength, and pain.
Concrete, grey, pain, and acceptance.
Dull acquiescence, from destroyed damp-course
And meccano set block roof.
This is not as it's bigger brother,
A different animal.
A different latitude, maybe.
Maybe I'm learning, maybe it's my attitude.
What do I imagine?
Might have beens, I suppose.
Dancing, dining, discovering.
I have only discovered
Rediscovery.
Complete.
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