2.
Vertical labyrinths that seek the sun
‘til now you were skyscrapers all of you,
planted on earth and blooming out of view
but still cement and steel, and glass and stone.
Not homes or domes to me you’re any more
but rays relaunched or else refracted high
back from their exile to their native sky,
back to the source that nourished them before.
Or has this earth become a sun in jest,
sending its own beams to the rival star,
acknowledging a message from afar
or subtly begging for some new request?
Vertical beauty, magic to the eyes,
are you the New World or a new surprise?
1999 (Da «New York Revisited: A Sequence of Sonnets»)