Towards a City

Bounding and rolling,
Tracks of iron-steele,
Going west,
Following the line,
With my eye,
From village to town,
And town to city;
The vains I shoot through,
Rough, dirty,
Seeming to work under,
A geography and history,
The crushing and grinding,
Locomotion,
Seems to paint all citys and towns,
A dirty and unwashed smudge,
I follow the track that winds,
And cuts through streams,
Farms, parishes, ploughs,
To old rivals,
Medieval, ancient glory,
Through dirt and moss,
Boot and ramshackle-way,
Bounding and shaking-
Slicing through the fray.


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