on through the night following she thought about the night before
there had been a small ember left at the heart of the burnt-out
section and when the extreme dark swallowed her and the morning
was at its zenith of cold the secret barely-there coal throbbed faintly on
a day later she was scrubbing at the stains in the jail issue clothing
when a shower of sparks fell in the southern section
a crack of coal split open the corner of her eye blazed tangerine
a string of poets gathered by a brazier singing
in the distance in the rain a meteorite entered the sea
the swamp grew the ruins charred artists took charcoal
the stains disappeared from the jail issue clothing
the frogs came, and they sang too
one day we will be free
we will be free on day
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Hi Jen. I'm rather stoked that you dropped by Paul's Gingatao for a visit. Hyperlinks are good, and yours is a treasure. Loving the rawness of your writing.
Cheers,
Brad
Hey Brad,
Thanks so much. I am intrigued by following connections and links online in the literary and sub-literary world and glad when someone scatters mine. Seeds. There is much that is of lingering interest, way outside the norm, including your amazing assembly. I got food poisoning yesterday and completely emptied out. After that (third major vomfest this year - what can't I stomach?) I always feel exhausted but somehow pure. However, my brain is in a near senile slump. I WILL RETURN
xJ
Post a Comment