Pulling Petals Off The Flowers Poem by Armadillo Poet

[A phantasmagoria of Fate]
or
‘In a station of the metro
The apparition of the faces in the crowd
Petals on a black wet bough’
..............................................................................

Surreal city,
Insular
Busy

In no other place does the rain fall sideways
Just to hit me in the face.
In no other place does the rain fall in shapes
Justly,
Just to cut my face.

Surreal city,
Insular
And busy

Why do the poor have such nice jackets?
Why can the poor buy such new hats?

Why does the busy bus
Grow quiet when
I step on?

Every race is looking at me without eyes.
Everyone can see white-caused-rain.

Well, cast me to the whale then,
If ye find me knave.
Well then cast me to him!
I am born of wilds.
I am bound for Tarsus.

Take a sacrifice
To your sea-god.

Cruel-cold city
Insular and busy.

Cut-chill my hat-less face.
[I dream of a big jacket]

Am I
Plagued,
Punished for an unknown sin?
Your cleaned petals say no

I wake up walk and wait for bed,
In this surreal city of the dead.

[I dream of desert trees after fire and flood
Some call this white fright.]