Returned as promised. These past few weeks have been an ordeal. I feel like Beowulf rising out of the mere after defeating Grendel's mother. I should be back on a weekly posting schedule now, and I have a very new poem here about a blackout that spread down my street one summer night.
Un-street-lighted
Of course the
city’s always bright.
Stars hardly
show their faces.
You should see
it in winter on cloudy nights
when all the
glare from the city lights
bounces back
between the clouds and snow
and makes it
bright as day is.
And so imagine
my surprise
one shocking
summer evening
when a power
failure blossomed wide
all down my
street and amplified
our sense of
dissolution from
the city and
its seething.
Our lifeline
was all stripped away!
A silent blackout
fell that day
the
un-street-lit street paved the way
to the carpet
of stars above us.
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