Roger Singer

Innocent violence creates the

sediment of the street.

The people, the open windows, full

of colors, spirits lifting out of gray

shadows and black roads.

The streets are never satisfied,

always hungry, hands reaching

Hammering voices,

Words speaking loud

and sweat dripping.

City spirits drift uneasy,

searching alleys for faces

hiding.

Anger follows the weak

while angels and lambs

seek higher ground.