Windy city, bleeding heart

Michigan Avenue
Michigan Avenue, looking north from the steps of  The Art Institute of Chicago

 

I could be anyone, any girl in a coffee shop on any street, in any wayward town where people are glad to be from and hope for other shores with higher waves beating against the beach

I might have been any woman in the art gallery, gathering dust for inspiration among the dead and the painted

Some shoes squeak, my shoes speak, every mile I walk throughout this glittery city, telling me how I know nothing after years of sweating verses

Watching paragraphs walk by, their stanzas on bicycles looking fit, and I can’t find the words

Stunned by the sight of all the stories placed just so, each letter splendid as Rubens or soothing as Monet

Seeking out shadows as the heart on my sleeve begins to drip along the sidewalk, the drops collecting into a puddle, following me as a stream through this mighty place

Giving me away, and screaming at me, that I have not yet written anything

 

 

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19 thoughts on “Windy city, bleeding heart

      1. I’ve even concentrating on my novel. I had set it aside for a few months to think about some revisions, and began editing again over the holidays. It’s coming together and
        resembling something someone might actually read someday 😊

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  1. Breathtaking prose-poetry. The vivid imagery of words passing by on bicycles, fit as a fiddle, not to an end but an end unto themselves, is stunning. The streaks and puddles of your emotions on the sidewalk make for an overwhelming story of procrastination.

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  2. I want to make a great comment.I just don’t think I can find adequate wording for all that your post says.I am thrilled of course and it brought me through so many facets of the human condition in both a allegorical and poetic sense that I got choked up reading it and how direct and concise it was. I feel as though I have snuck a peek into your deep soul,and yes I said snuck. I am no literary hound but in a sense I felt I had a Shakespeareian experience just now. Bravo Ms Street. Can’t wait to see more!!!

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  3. Chicago was my home for twenty years. The Number 6 bus I often rode downtown passed by the Art Institute. I share your love and fascination with the city. Your words are beautiful reminders. You speak obliquely and powerfully of the living place.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. During those same years I was haunting the city museums and galleries, walking and spending many nights at the blues clubs around Halstad and Fullerton. 1989 I headed to NY for a couple of years, then came back.
        Always lived in the suburbs though.

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  4. Scrolling quickly the comments, I saw the word “Breathtaking” go by.. it was something like that I knew I must say myself.. along with the imagery of the bleeding heart, it is probably that I sense the strains of the art Empath there, and that’s something close to my own heart, and yet I had never made the connection berween those two..

    Liked by 1 person

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