Here, in the city of jazz, <br />the tigers in my dreams <br />weep neon tears. <br /> <br /> <br />I awaken each morning <br />to the soft moans and <br />murmurings of the restless dead. <br />Fine hard snow falls upon the city. <br /> <br /> <br />The world strikes <br />a single note: <br />C flat.. <br /> <br /> <br />This has nothing <br />to do with sex, <br />or the Kabbalah, <br />or the nature <br />of irrational numbers.<br /><br />David Kowalczyk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thorns-upon-the-alien-corn/
