Wednesday, September 24, 2008


I scribbled this in a notebook on route 81 south yesterday. I think I was stopped somewhere--I don't think I could have written this while driving!

Apologies for the late post.

and when you slammed the door
you nearly caught my fingers
and I curled them
into fists and knocked
until my knuckles went red

with rage and fear
I ran
but where?
caught on a mill wheel
working for ruin

who was it rolled the boulder
into the road? who ran
down to the station
to set the flags afire? who was it
ground the planes
under an icy palm?

all the little salves
were my salvation
my bruises a sunset

and in the dawn
clean hands, strong hands
ready to turn the wheel
tear the ticket
hold the pen

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