Sunday 9 November 2014

1 New Poem

In Blue Hawaii

The weeping strains of pedal steel,
echo blank beaches not in Pacific's
growing whirlpool tide, but in
placed of Superior skies,
pebbled sands.

Shades of Lou Reed New York in the deadened
half-reflection of sunglass steam as breathy
sketches on the shopfront windows, painted
in disheveled morning star parallels to traffic
clatter-clangs.

The breeze in these Northern nights run
chilling deep through maple, pine and cedar moss
shines deep as the reconstruction of Antebellum
fables, the tragic falsehood in wishing for
pasts unlived.

There is a supple tinge of rippled water,
then, to these catchings of wafted warmth
from wood-burning exhaust in a land of
darkness breaking just past noons strike: just
the thing

for a second to mistake cracking phone posts for palm.

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