I haven't written in a while, but I think a new burst of creativity might be around the corner. Too much "not writing," and I start to feel disconnected from the world and irritable. I have the Secret History to finish, though, so why not have an orange while we wait? I think this is number XI:
Applies to Oranges
Dogs bark on a barge on the river. The birds
Are hiding again, getting thin
in the fractured dark. Tonight's feature
Presentation: 50s B-grade sci-fi,
Replete with theremin. The chrome knobs
Are chipping, Zenith at its perigee.
Once you could get dizzy just staring.
Back when the oranges were small,
Reedy trees too young to fruit. Now,
They're gone and the birds shiver,
The dogs howl as though monsters
Were walking out of the river, hands
Dripping with futures long past.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
