Beneath her feet, the city
gossips, tarmac tongues whispering
the hymn of her returning.
Every sodden yard of hard-mooned
kerbstone unfurls to her insoles,
black locale knows the girl
& her swell cobalt mind
so well: the hackneyed princess
of slagheaps and monolithic
mole-hills of one-mil syringes.
Doom-town stare of a million
– Miggy Angel
(I just wrote this lil orphan fragment off the top of my head – and as I’m trying to post here regularly again and cultivate a consistent writing practice I thought I’d share it with yous – the above artwork is by one of my fav artists: Gottfried Helnwein. Check his art out it is incredible.)