my heart has become
as hard as a city street,
it sings like iron
My heart has become as hard as a city street,
The horses trample upon it, it sings like iron,
All day long and all night long they beat,
They ring like the hooves of time. My heart has become as drab as a city park,
The grass is worn with the feet of shameless lovers,
A match is struck, there is kissing in the dark,
The moon comes, pale with sleep. My heart is torn with the sound of raucous voices,
they shout from the slums, from the streets, from the crowded places,
And tunes from a hurdy-gurdy that coldly rejoices
Shoot arrows into my heart. O my belovèd, sleeping so far from me,
Walking alone in sunlight, or in blue moonlight,
Are you alive there, far across that sea,
Or were you only a dream?
Discordants II as published in Turns and movies, and other tales in verse by Conrad Aiken (New York, Houghton Mifflin company, 1916).
I get up and have my coffee.
I get up and have my coffee and look at the news on my tablet.
I swipe and swipe and look for news that might be news.
I swipe and swipe.
Is it any wonder that my heart has become as hard as a city street.
If only it were only a dream.
No Haiku For You 