all roads lead to a throttling, cherubic stoplight, tugging at overwrought powerlines even Pinocchio thinks no more than leader some fly-fisher clips with but dollar store nailclippers
what’s meant by breastbone spluttering comely as
what scuffed moodstone’s truant indifference
as the dervishing, search-
light rain scrapes over the
concrete, groping for
cracks and outlets,
some small god among
burn-outs sobs and the
street lamps dawdle and
throb, here affording some
purchase for pursed and
pulsing stars snubbed, sparks
shucked out from the rain-
clopped rock, the cold-
cocked concrete, solid
or stolid as sin, be-
ginning to tear
just a little bit
3 thoughts on "all roads lead to a throttling, cherubic stoplight, tugging at overwrought powerlines even Pinocchio thinks no more than leader some fly-fisher clips with but dollar store nailclippers"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Wow. Love how your titles are poem enough by themselves.
It’s a veritable feast!
I really love the simplicity in this one…and the description of the rain swirling. So good! As always…
Thank you! It was a particularly pretty storm that inspired it.
Reading this later I notice you say the concrete is tearing from the rain. What a fabulous image!