Tonight was another show at the barn. Someone should have told me. It went smoothly, no blue lights coming to bring complaints. The picture is of the back of the barn. I like to hang bikes from the trees.And a poem from the past.
Hot Flashes on the
Fourth of July
Whirly gigs of sparks and colors swirl
on the surface of the zodiac in Gasworks
Park, staining the dark bronze; remnants
of children’s delights. The hillside
overlooking the bay is surveyed and stalked
to the inch, a patchwork of flesh, picnic
blankets, spent beer cans and burnt paper
from an arsenal of popping toys. The crowds
strain upward, crane, count the minutes,
elbow into position, re-evaluate the area.
It starts. Fire in the sky. The dark
screen of night brightly colored
with searing light, shades of victorious
war.
in the figure of a fire-haired woman. She
leaves on a motorbike, unnoticed.
SP
First published in Maxtix 1980
5 comments:
Liberty passes through the crowds in the figure of a fire-haired woman. She leaves on a motorbike, unnoticed.
I dunno, maybe it's me. I cannot imagine, for the life of me, anyone with hair the color of fire coming or going anywhere without being seen. It just doesn't make sense, add up. That kind of woman has that it thang, ya know, even without the bike.
Though bikes are tres, tres.
Thank you for gracing us once more with your words. Jesus, it's easier to get a good cup of java than to find something here these days.
(Hey, how was that? Did it work for you? Did it? Naw, didn't think so. Guilt's just sooooooo not my style.)
Hope you're floating with the swimmie things. They can be a real source of comfort and peace, piece.
(smiling and sighing at life)
--
Hello PT- Nope, that's just the way it happened. I was there.
Sighing and smiling at life.
Gasworks Park huh? That was a lifetime ago.
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