In Progress


Don’t lose the sun.

The trains depart

in a blink.

 

The compass can reverse-

needs recalibration,

clocks stopping

means nothing

to the wheels

and the rail

and the conductor

which understands

 

every hill

is a dial

tuned into

time

 

And shadow

is petal come off the bloom.

 

Run-off

and blazing, its

tail

shows the path

it went

before resting

here-

for hydration,

for a breath-

 

to allow the scenery

to be

under it,

 

smothered and suffocated

 

for the purity

of

entering into evidence

its guilt solely for the passion

of being free.

 

The light drives this slave

to drapetomania,

to hide

to go unseen-

until momentarily,

it shows arms

and renegades

out of bound

in tow.

 

First the butterflies

will die

as it sets

up home

behind the mall,

Then the grass,

the ponds

won’t fight back,

 

And only the cars

will go

and stay

under bulbs

insufficient for battle.

 

Then the line is pushed

as expansion comes,

 

the trees

fall

and more the dark

overtakes day.

Cool respite from the summer

cigarettes are lit.

 

To stop squinting,

the black

is found

and also for screens

to be read.

 

Then stories of photosynthesis

fade away

where the beams

are most bright,

 

And the block is applied to skin.

 

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8 thoughts on “In Progress

  1. Had to look up “drapetomania”

    So many nice lines such as “every hill is a dial tuned into time”

    Challenged by that last line . I got the part about darkness for the screens and to stop squinting. And the artificial light and the lack of photsynthesis because of loss of plants.

    The last line really intriques me — and the sunblock is applied to skin? maybe made to just “block applied to skin’ because sun is blocked out.

    Very good! It’s a very unique environmental poem!

  2. i enjoyed the start of this piece and also the interesting phrase about the hills, which is unique, requiring further thinking. what were you thinking when you wrote that phrase?

    • Well, at the time I was thinking about time and how many ways I could describe it. That piece is actually cut from a 150 page poem that I’m currently revising. It was one the many many movements. So, when I was writing the piece Sentimental Education, I was thinking about how much time it takes for a thought or memory to occur. In doing that, I thought about clocks and then sundials just jumped out at me while I was sitting under a tree and having noticed the shadow move from directly overhead to no longer shading me. i figured hills went better with trains than trees. (BTW thanks for stopping by and I look forward to reading your next poem.)

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