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Literature Text
Ribbons of shining cars:
The countryside in parts
Will always be ours.
Drizzled in a distant June
as silver lace, let smoking
breathing moonlight race
in living strips, let temple steps
be made of every smiling road,
through fields that flashing, leapt by swift
as hedgerows drinking yellow dust,
that floated in a silent drift
and blew around there - missing us.
The countryside in parts
Will always be ours.
Drizzled in a distant June
as silver lace, let smoking
breathing moonlight race
in living strips, let temple steps
be made of every smiling road,
through fields that flashing, leapt by swift
as hedgerows drinking yellow dust,
that floated in a silent drift
and blew around there - missing us.
Literature
July
The breeze was a tender thing;
he was glistening and nut brown.
The grass sank before his blade
like resignation.
He cut a wider arc than mine-
I watched his muscles slide
in swing and stride;
grass fell before and to the side.
Two dogs dripped, panting beneath the trees.
Blades shushed with every pass, till all was done.
With the field set low in the heavy afternoon,
we swallowed fear, we raised our eyes.
Literature
june 5th
isn't it wonderful, the way we get swept up in this sudden gust of
air and light? one minute i'm wiping the wind out of my eyes,
the next i'm staring at you, wondering if i know what you're thinking.
you're another page of a book, only this book that i'm reading i hope is mine
because when you touch my hand i can't remember what i'm saying, and
when you watch me i feel so exposed- a bird in the open sky.
it's like looking at the whole landscape below while it looks back at me.
you're the boy that can make me laugh endlessly, that keeps me up all night
until we hear the one and only train that passes my house at exactly 2 am.
(it th
Literature
across the sky in stars
i told you that you can be my sun if i can be your nebulae, because
we're two shards of glass in newspaper-ashes wrapped up in starry text
on paper bare as bone (we share the same pre-dic-ah-ment, love),
and these silken wings that are ripped apart- we share, attached to the smalls of our backs,
(you're beautiful in black in white)
star crossed strangers are better off than we;
crippled alone and
cobbled together.
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The smoking moonlight is a reference to motorways through the country in summer.
The cars get very shiny and such.
The yellow dust is general road dust / memories
The cars get very shiny and such.
The yellow dust is general road dust / memories
© 2010 - 2024 Penessence
Comments35
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactI will have you know that I was forced to read this in a sad attempt at a British accent in an effort to evaluate the rhyme.
I like the juxtaposition of nature vs. modernism. There is something particularly nostalgic, I think, about the open road in summertime and reading this made me remember road trips I took with my family as a childhood.
I can't fault your word choice at all. This piece isn't as striking as some of your work but it is certainly lovely in its own right. Overall, I think it's a sweet little piece and an enjoyable read.
Also...you know you guys drive on the wrong side of the road, right?