Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Lines on St. Lucy's Day

The bicycle has ridden itself away

into a storm cloud

just off the horizon line


The new ways adopt the old style

to appear stylish

crushed felt. daisy. black modest skirt. white blouse.


Camphor dulls the effects of the ether.


Chalk dust & a surplus

of unused digits; in my country

we say "friend" but mean "accountant."


She asked about white balance

but what could I tell her.


So much coffee in these veins

the vessels

crack, fatigue.


She has a whiff of 2004 about her.


Summer's incandescent glow was something

less than expected. Insouciant gloss, reverie.


"Do you miss me & want me to come to Oregon & hug you."

No comments:

Post a Comment