fragmented sunlight in a strange
land helter-skeltered in yellow wind:
black umbrella, white paper box kite, a
fistful of goldenrod, an email arriving thru
ether any given Sunday—an array of
things that may in fact be hopeless: a
pink inflatable Easter bunny nodding in yellowish
breeze beneath a pine beside the highway—
where are you going—fragmented sunlight
a plate of toast, the the silver-yellow
clouds to the east, the lies you told yourself—
an array of things: a packet of Carter Hall
pipe tobacco—you are always awake—
laundry shaking on a rope clothesline in
yellow gusts & lies you tell yourself a-
mong thin air & fragments—anxious
rib cage, a box kite’s pine frame
snapping when you don’t let it go
Jack Hayes
© 2011
I love the breaks you give this poem. The pauses give it a musical quality.
ReplyDeleteHi Raquelle: Thanks so much! Glad you liked it.
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