City In The Mason Jar

There's not enough towers piercing the sky 

not enough ground for the houses to lie, 

too little sea for the ships to dry, 

too little future for the dreamers to scry. 

 

And they grow within the mason's panes, 

glass jar of a city strange, rigid are its boundaries 

and its homeliness is floundering 

underneath urban decay. 

 

Too much city sediment, drowning cheap apartments 

developing a monolith of melancholy sentiment, 

sunshine filters in fetid and there grows all a rancid 

sort of riot, people growing- 

more and more, older and tired

of glass walls they see out of 

but never escape from. 

 

Plenty of too much 

in too little plenty 

jars of jaundice are like little cities 

grown so big that the flies just aren't fitting.