"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Friday, April 22, 2011

River drive

More catch-up: this is from a poem I wrote on the train to NYC my first day of work last June. I've tried to rehabilitate it a few times, with help, but I couldn't seem to make it work. So, perfect opportunity here.
Prompt #22: Recycle, Reuse, Rewrite

Out blares a tenor signal, clear as the rainwater
pooling in the streets. So follow it,
take the road to its nearest end point.
Around the corner, tattered shoes hang from a power line,
leaking usefulness. Watch as the wind blows,
knocks their peeling heels together:
A quiet wish for a way home, screamed across the ruin.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The Morning Benders, Stitches

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