“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label automobiles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label automobiles. Show all posts
Thursday, February 27, 2020
Jalopy
When learning how to meditate it is a common tool
to imagine
yourself
being on the side of a busy road, a freeway say,
watching the cars zoom by,
noticing the varying speeds
and taking in
the flow.
The automobiles are commuting thoughts
in this scenario,
unremembered by make, model and color
unless focused upon
in passing.
Being stuck on the shoulder
more than once myself,
some savior often pulls over
to offer help
it is fair to assume I simply ran out of gas,
it seems reasonable to conclude
I do not have reliable transportation,
and it is purely logical to reason
I have somewhere
to Be-
as if I could use a lift.
I try not to use the hazard lights.
Photograph by Alan Levine, 'Roadside Susans' taken 7/17 in Public Domain.
Monday, July 10, 2017
Transmission in Transition
Freeway roars more than ever,
not because it is a Monday.
With August time is pushed against A/C windows,
glaring about where blind spots signal danger.
Only congestion is quiet.
The speedway whines under the weight of grey.
The police siren screams in haste haphazardly,
with authority, a cymbal, on its path of pursuit
in order to keep mobilized migrations
inside the lines.
The fog rolls by, pushing through and cutting off
the idle sun.
A red-shifting light through diesel smoke
imposed speed limits as a dare,
to supersede a sense of departure,
with one eye
fastened to looking back,
The other I
travels light.
Painting by Joseph Stella, 'Battle of Lights, Coney Island' (1913) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...