The Red City

Symbolist free verse poetry

The beating heart is a walled city,
a fortress raised in red.

A dense population of
sonic,
molten
dread.

The people pool at the center,
trading fractal, concentric
thoughts.

At night, the tide rolls in—
bleeding against its shores.

The halls are coiled arteries,
lapped in sapphire
walls.

They lead them back to the center,
to a glowing,
looking
pond.

Inside a mirrored dimension,
where spirits sometimes cross,

black birds bring—
on a string—its
many numbered
codes of 
pearl.

The sound, a quaking shimmer,
a muscle made of mind.

And me, a trembling note—
lost in rhythm’s 
line.

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