Sunday, September 20, 2009

Notes toward a poem


"Meet my personality" Ron Silliman

The red wheel barrow has so much rust,
the wheels have eaten away.

A city might collapse under its own economy or
a body.

There is always an open letter.

The ragged brick, the splashes of paint,
the spiced wood, my UPC code, blood
on the cornice, way above your head.

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