In the city of my youth,
the streets are dirty,
and as haunted as heaven.
The buildings stretch
toward the welcoming sky,
ignorant of gravity.
Boats glide fearlessly
across the surface
of the muddy river,
sending their regrets
to the bottom, to the past
stuck in the mire below.
The city is endless.
Tucked into my small place
inside of it, I go on forever.

11/18/2011

Author's Note: So, I was inspired by a friend of mine, who's been posting these poems lately with state abbreviations as the titles, and I thought, I could write poems about the different places where I've lived. The thing is, of course, that if you follow my poetry, or you know me, some of this stuff is going to be familiar to you, and I'm not trying to repeat myself, just trying to get a solid picture of what each place means to me in my mind. When I was five, we moved to St. Louis, Missouri. We lived in an apartment on Connecticut Street.

Posted on 11/19/2011
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