Sharing with The Sunday Muse , for #193. Turn away, like the moon, listening... Listening to the planet that rumbles with a hundred million slaps. All the feet, all the rockets, all the pistons in the cars on the asphalt over the chasm where the veins run deep, blue in sunlight, black at night. Running over the chasm. Once or twice they ran to you. Once or twice they ran by. Greetings and salutations. The sky is an entertaining shade of concrete yellow as the rain promised earlier in the week makes good on its arrival. It's a disturbing bright sallow sky, the kind of sky that puts you in mind of old movies and degraded film stock and the pops and crackles incidental to the main story. Several years ago I made a resolution to journal more and last year I came across a video that suggested I actually re-read those journals, at least those of the previous year, at the beginning of each new year. Technically, I have kept the journal resolution, making daily notes in the margins of
Very cool, Chrissa. Succinct and satisfying.
ReplyDeleteThe landlord leaves it unlocked!! I absolutely love this poem Chrissa! Deep and lovely!!
ReplyDeleteStrong opening, and that second line is just amazing--it brings the reality of coping with change into clean perspective, and gets to the heart of a different kind of work we all must do to survive--yet how tired we get of it, and of that space it continually strives to fill. Or so I read.
ReplyDeletethis poem has a perpetual motion to in... the clock must always turn, i like your image of spider webs reinforces the voice of the poem, your little is perplexing, a mystery, but i like that, adds another element to the poem. enjoyed reading this
ReplyDeleteSigh, gorgeous writing. You always provide wonderful poetry.
ReplyDeleteThe factory exists and the door is unlocked. So much potential in those concepts.
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