1.16.08

Asphalt

"He will not shout or cry out,
or raise his voice in the streets.
A bruised reed he will not break,
and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. "
Isaiah 42.2


walking around
at night in the neighborhood when there're no cars
you may straining hear the television hymn
a ghastly tune sticky like pollen congeals
grabs holds preserves brain's cracks way back to asphalt
leaves you rushing to explain
how the sounds fit the pictures like they used to
like billboards by the highway
colorful and foreign
words you haven't learned yet
moonshines cloud over now streetlights light night streets
not what you remembered in the woods aged eleven
sunlight lingering branch-high
now no fireflies anymore or bicycles or running water
there are windows and buildings behind them
people who live and sleep unaware you exist
who refuse to listen when pavement talks
that's how your feet know stories of this neighborhood
chalk and water skin and rubber ice and metal
learning to whistle and stepping over cracks
dreaming of summer
the weekend
everything to do before the sun goes down


**note: this used to be a different poem called "Information," but i was going through old stuff and it stuck out to me because as far as i'm concerned it had a lot of promise it didn't really live up to. not like it's some kind of prom queen at this point, but i'm happy with the changes. stay tuned for totally new stuff.