Skip to content
Zack Moy
Buy my Books


Poetry1 min read

These streets of cluttered signs and lights
now thwart my thoughts of starlit nights.

The buildings tall and towers high
have torn apart the age-old sky:

Orion’s belt unfastened
while Lepus hops unscathed, unchastened

and Gemini — down center split,
the two twins severed separate.

But billionaires can buy their way
to paint Chicago black and gray

and all for profit, stardom, fame –
a founding father signed his name

across the skyline like a king
as if he were just purchasing

the space between the stars and me
like real estate astronomy.

Though striking scenes in their own right,
these structures barricade our sight

from open spaces, open minds,
and what imagination finds.

With blackest steel, not bluest sky,
poor dreamers of our world must try

to see through windows, weight, and walls
and use their minds like wrecking balls.

© 2006 - 2023 Zack Moy. All rights reserved.