Monday, August 22, 2005
falling from the moon
Rattling fan blowing in
an August night I am using
poorly. Somewhere else
the bells & sirens of a
boardwalk arcade,
little boats circling a pool,
a small train whistles
rounding the bend
toward funnel cakes,
smile for the camera.
They scream falling from the moon,
flashing wheels,
belts & gears,
this house is haunted.
Search the darkness
& there is the ocean.
"If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, in a state of civilization, it expects what never was and never will be." Thomas Jefferson
an August night I am using
poorly. Somewhere else
the bells & sirens of a
boardwalk arcade,
little boats circling a pool,
a small train whistles
rounding the bend
toward funnel cakes,
smile for the camera.
They scream falling from the moon,
flashing wheels,
belts & gears,
this house is haunted.
Search the darkness
& there is the ocean.
Labels: poem
