Speeding and roving light captured off the Chicago transit line.

 
 

Visual Poetry:



 
 Commute 

 by Cody Ryan Tippie 

 
 A web of winding rails,

interconnected they mind and weave.

Chancing distance afar cut short,

to commuters time and pace reprieved. 

 
 Of ease to traffics delight;

burden lessened of constructions millwright.

Fortuited cityscapes design overhauled;

to the release of stalled traffic appalled. 

 
 A stop afore; a platform change be it so;

dusked, dirted, stank, and rusted,

lay serviceable amenities in need of grow. 

 
 Persons of all walks standby to catch a ride;

from the disheveled homeless keep,

to the still morning drunken bar peep,

the stunning, but eclectic city thriver,

to the well-made suited office diver,

yet it be to the traveler skimming crown,

or the drugged despot stumbling round;

for mind of manner,

is thus skyway a diverse ubersetzer,

or translator from that of city to town. 

 
 Brown, Pink, Blue, Green, Red, Orange, Purple,

and Black run the lines thick and through; at intervals

unforgiving only frustration, worry, or anxiety might rue. 

 
 Albeit one of these lines is missing,

be it not present; nor exist it not at all.

For what should be the lies of the many;

shrouded within cages of pultrid walls. 

 
 Alas, long a’fore may I have read the station map a’rore,

mistaken be it were to relations that may n’ere have existed yet before.

A few minutes spat;

yet a carriage car arrives of late,

those waiting dashing and running,

to catch a place to sit of din from date. 

 
 Oh be the short commute underway;

of lights flicker and flutter zizzling by,

for lightscapade of the rushing boroughs,

washes away fraughted fret,

from daily endeavors to live or survive.

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Commute