hole in the fence—
while driving sixty
my mind slips through
*
frozen stream
still the sound
of water
*
trading in my name
for two
round stones
*
snow bluster and squall—
in the rearview mirror
all blue
*
nothing nothing nothing
in the field, and so much
filling it in
I like the opening and closing pieces, especially as bookends for the fleeting impressions on the road — the first looking forward, the last looking back.
trading in my name/for two/round stones.
I like this one, but it seems out of place, to me, with the other four (but maybe i’m denser this AM than normal…)
I like the second and fourth, the water gurgles under the frozen shell, and snow ahead of you, blue behind. the juxtapositioning of assumed negating conditions.