Issue #10

350 on 5th

I can see myself there: where nobody else will,

absorbed into the mouth of every shadow, obscured

by fluorescent filaments. The only place mortal bodies

can dance along the skyline, unfolding into

tomorrow. Hot dogs and gasoline;

jazz permeates smogs of East Asian scents

mingled with the smouldering embers of liberty.

Here I speakeasy, dissipitating into the cacophony.

Symbiosis. Consuming each other’s identity,

quaked resonations only we understand.

I could seize the geist of the City and with it,

shroud myself invisible.

Tamsin Connor

© 2014