Here is an old one I tried to edit in locus but for some reason couldn't scroll down far enough on my old posts (it's from 2010). So, it was either giving up or re-typing, and obviously I chose the latter.
Not such a great one, but I did some major changes, and cuts, which I think now leaves it standing on its own two feet:
Visual.
(photo exhibit, Las Ramblas, 2010)
A blue dress hanging on the cottage porch.
Small fingers of a girl pushing her hair back,
adjusting her barrette. Fingers and hair.
Rows of cinderblock buildings, and inside -
a shaky table covered with plastic, a
stunned grandchild gazing out, into,
beyond. An ancient tv, lifted from
the gypsy's cart, flickers: snow covering
train tracks, or a warm place
where buildings crumbled at dawn.
(And now no water, no mouthfuls of rice
or potato.) Does he wonder what will come?
Something to lead him away
from the rusty playground
of the dusty vila, the
small blue bicycle left
to its busted wheel.
Not such a great one, but I did some major changes, and cuts, which I think now leaves it standing on its own two feet:
Visual.
(photo exhibit, Las Ramblas, 2010)
A blue dress hanging on the cottage porch.
Small fingers of a girl pushing her hair back,
adjusting her barrette. Fingers and hair.
Rows of cinderblock buildings, and inside -
a shaky table covered with plastic, a
stunned grandchild gazing out, into,
beyond. An ancient tv, lifted from
the gypsy's cart, flickers: snow covering
train tracks, or a warm place
where buildings crumbled at dawn.
(And now no water, no mouthfuls of rice
or potato.) Does he wonder what will come?
Something to lead him away
from the rusty playground
of the dusty vila, the
small blue bicycle left
to its busted wheel.
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