Bob Axell

Say can you see?
The roads to missery
The paths on which we flee
Escape from dark alleys.
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I sit here under plain sky
Watch grey trains roll by
I see the buildings sleeping
By the railroads side
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A poem for all
For winter and fall
Summer and spring
There be no such thing
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We read
Therefore we write
We breed
Therefore we fight
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Don't let my fender
Be a hinder
Don't let it bruise
Your legs in blue
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Red
Blue
Yellow
Spain
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He said!
Agreed
Seconded
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Sitting dull and grey
Under broad oakleaves forgotten
Lying under chestnut trees
Unspeaking - barren - rotten
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Unknown knowledge
Noone knows
Empty houses
Noones home
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Barren landscapes
Empty and dry
Flatlined and dyed
In orangewhite rhy
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Black
Tough
Hanging
Soft
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I sit
On a bench
Alone in the rain
Soaking and coated
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Smooth
Hard
Single
Striped
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Eyes closed
Skin roasting
Sun burning
Chest heaving
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