Tiny tricks of vintage blues
I tear the streetlamp from the roots
and gesture upwards, past my brow
to skies unlit by fire towers.

Trigger tails of unmatched hue
I sit in silence open mouthed
as mesmerized by ticking time
as tree leaf branches’ ending chime.

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem. Here is mine:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: