Unheard

by Justin Mathews

Unheard
That's the word
Upon these streets
Within these beats
Into my dreams

Blurred in the background
Of this concave lens
With stripes and polkadots
On my stifled amens

A weaver sits
Parched in your mind
The peddler gives
As if he were blind

Down the pavement
The teardrops roll
To purge your blotted
And coffeeshop soul

Where poets like me
Tear out the page
Where Jack and Jill
Meet the space-age

Washing the crayon
From the wall
Where birds freeze still
And leaves don't fall

Absorbing the crowd
And molding the ground
The sidewalk moves
Sailing southbound

Beyond the world
Of wealth and pleasure
A wanderer searches
For a smaller treasure

And in sugary rivers
And ink-stained clouds
The poet gleams
Yet the world enshrouds


 

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