Dennis Mombauer - Poetry

Urban Echoes

by Dennis Mombauer

The streets are glass

The skies like

Unstacked shelves


Trembling over the city


Mazes of graffiti

Formationally flawed


Through a concrete cavern

A tram snakes

Even the memory

Seemingly small



Pendulum hours

The gorges swell

With carafe-eyes

And manicured claws

Motoren atmend


Tiniest of triggers

Zungenlos enraged


They stare

Out their windows

Hours in each direction

Blickgeduld waning

Thoughts in padded cells


Dust crystals float

Inside a mirror


The strangest thing

I heard all morning


A squall of needles

Sprayed catalyst


Their way home

Born in the dusk

A selfishness

The city sleeps