Dawn in Cities

Dawn in Cities: 'Effluvia', 'Tidal Sweep', 'Fruitless Search', 'Hope', 'Doomed'

Effluvia
Before dawn
waves break loudest on beaches
when no one suns, or fumbles under blankets.
Morning light makes little whispers
and horizons are attracted
to sand dune men
trudging the dank shore
seeking lost treasure.


Tidal Sweep
Again in the silence of night
it is the woman who comes to me
for surrender until first light.
We met many dusks ago
and sojourned together,
until dawn drove her to the sea.
For she was a twilight lover,
compelled by mermaids of the morning
to clean the sands of lovers stains.



Fruitless Search
I kept a vigil,
driven from a thorny bed of sleep,
by ghostly visitant
who waved discoveries in gleaming hands.

Into the evening streets I rushed,
the calm, hazy sky and glistening lights
a seeming mockery of mysteries to come
on such a night of emanations.

I sought others,
hoping in the milling press to find
someone to share my neon appetite,
but nothing comes when sought in hunger.

How fast the streets were paced
by urgent, shuffling feet
fearing the brief expanse of night
would invite someone’s fading.
Hours passed delivering the message,
unrevealed in fleeting motions.
No one left to meet in chance encounters,
no where left to go but home.

Nothing but another evening’s desolation
gloating with many others,
leaving me marooned on lonely doorstep,
unconsoled by hints of dawn.


Hope
I have heard the rain hum evening
of my land’s people
crying angry fears,
my land’s people
raising a throbbing chant
surrendering our tomorrows.
Though come from once ship of trust,
fought hard and won,
stood tall ‘over there’,
in pride went far,
then faltered.
Not resolved
that conglomerates and cartels are continuations,
cycles always flexing shape and choice
and my people’s land
is a young land,
learning to maintain the estate,
filling cities and forests with beginnings.
Growing
is my land’s people.


Doomed
Evenings of gentle touch linger
like the sex sweet haunt of finger
gently stroking a lover’s hair.
Past the waste bins of desire
the shadowed recollections of the liar
contract with audible despair.
We have walked the streets at dawn,
swallowed by the ravenous forgetting
of home and place and city,
where we live and have lived before,
by unused yesterday’s devoured
of time, of face, or our passing
with sad detachment and bleak wonder,
fearing vision beyond confessing.
Uncertainty, ripped from bled imaginings,
while the graveyard tugs its ear and waits.

Gary Beck

Poems from 'Dawn in Cities' have appeared in: Alura, Blue Print Review, Bitterroot, Caravan, Decanto Poetry Magazine, Green's Magazine, Poem, Poetry Today, Portland Review, San Fernando Poetry Journal, Voices, Chantarelle’s Notebook, The Innisfree Poetry Journal, Wolf Moon Press Journal, Istanbul Literary Review, Nashwaak Review, Poetry Monthly, The Persistent Mirage, Words on Paper, Contemporary Rhyme, Blue Fifth Review, Remark Poetry, Lucid Rhythms, Istanbul Literary Review, Written Word, Thick With Conviction, Munyori Poetry Journal, Rogue Poetry Review, Madswirl, Write Me A Metaphor, Starfish Poetry, Spokes, Concrete Meat Sheet, Publishing Genius, A Little Poetry, Sentinel Poetry Journal, RKVRY, Faraway Journal, Clearfield Review, Poet's Ink Review, Media Cake Magazine, Toronto Quarterly Review, The Commonline Project, Spark Bright Magazine, Ranfurly Review, Baltimore Is Reads, Farmhouse Magazine, The Ugly Tree, Pure Francis, Foundling Review and others.
Submitted on 18th July, 2009