Walking Home II
Posted on May 14, 2008 by joefelso
In the city, most noise
is something loose,
a part wanting freedom
from its body.
We’re free and pass
amid and inside these objects
trafficking sound.
Sun bounces from metal.
Wind stops at walls.
Our shadows take the angles
of buildings and sidewalks
they fall on, folding to fit.
And down the street,
brakes scream
as if one wheel meant to flee—
right now, its cry
the only audible lament.
Filed under: American Life, Chaos, Chicago, Life, Longing, Musings, Nature, Pierre Reverdy, Poetry, Thoughts, Urban Life, Writing
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Beautiful. It’s so short and packed with such melancholy for walking in cities, at least for me, who doesn’t walk in cities much. Thanks.
Oddly, I do like walking in cities—certainly more than driving! You’re right about this poem’s melancholy though. The city seems to demand you dissemble more when, sometimes, it’s plain people aren’t showing what they feel. Then again, I could just be talking about myself, walking home from work with a cry in my throat. —D
great part II –3rd stanza sings
I’m always experimenting with pace, and recently I’ve learned some new tricks from reading Reverdy. I think I’m still writing sonnets—just in conception instead of form—but I am trying to break out a little. I feel as though I’ve finished one book and am starting another. Thanks for visiting! —D