East Rock Was One (Day 2,547)

 

A bluff that doesn’t overlook
water, pot holes sink
into view overnight. 

When I calculate distance
too literally, I begin
to see only a stranger 

who grasps at straight lines,
begin to believe in
only their edges. 

I’m not starting, not
stopping, merely counter-balancing 

with these dollar coins
that perform revelry
in my pocket without a conductor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s