Towerblocks

by Aidan Andrew Dun

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Where the sky
goes drifting eastward
in three-dimensional
grey, blue and white
with endless curving
equivalents of waves
rolling above city
horizons, they stand:
forty decks each of
squalor and heartbreak
these monstrous
stratifications of ugliness
vile silhouettes which
damage the world;
five grim cliffs of vertical
ferro-concrete
thrusting-up to
shoulder-aside
a timid sun
regarding these monotone
objects with horror
the way a doctor
looks at growth
under skin.

Here are
carcinomas of London
these monuments to
dysfunctional existence
sarsens of the dark
ceremonial today
where millions go under
in slow-motion.






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