(poema despeinado #5 / September 2009)
Bike, bike, New York
Here you are
solid in your loneliness
not quite forgotten nor gone
invisible to most
These lines chant your uniqueness
your silent, open stare
obvious past, diminished future
long gone your days of wheeling
frenetic crossings and gracious descents
down the hills of cemented Manahatta
contemporary as the metal of your frame
quickly become a relic, archeological object
diminished of use, claiming lost purpose
Here you are
chained to a past
that empties your future
brave in your silence
symbol of things to come
these lines chant your beauty
where most see decay
I encounter paths
connecting absences and despairs
to the riches of strangers.
Jordi Torrent
so wasteful, if I saw any of these I would take them home and do them up. Pimp my bike :)
macorcalar 2 months ago
Can't seem to remember what happened to all my old bikes... hope none of them were featured here with the other forgotten souls.
rfswolf 2 years ago