The poem is a reimagining of New York City based on the Fields of Asphodel which, if you recall your Greek mythology, is the afterlife destination of the ordinary, as Elysium was the place heroes go.
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The Streets of Asphodel
Travelers all, and settlers none who mill
Beneath the shade of these strobing spires;
Groups of varied sense and diverse will
Revolving ‘round planted pole-hung wires;
Aimless movement across an abundance
Of choice and desire, but no satisfaction;
Heights Elysian call the eye, a chance
For lucky leave from Earthly sanction…
Nay, glare of windowed stone and gazes met
Their bright expressions reflect me true;
My name was drowned in Lethe’s water, yet
Awash in memory I pass through
This rocky wasteland in which dreams flower
And where roots mixed with mulchy Noise
Give rise to Life hidden, slight and slender
Knowing not where it goes but that it has a Voice.