then.....

record # in re:ply

and our land emerges in sky plate tectonic s..
whirling...snow in the spring wind warm
they are snowflakes from above the warm front
here....the little factory making glue..steaming
the tall electric christmas tree turned on past
nine thirty at night...a monument of celebration
of hope..of giving..that our work keeps families
going here in the city...on a walk with the dog
i told this to the younger man who works making
the machines turn...intelligent then I...told him it
was like a beacon to me...my favourite thing
a bout living in this end of the city..near the dark
deep semi pppulated lake that we draw our water
from..the forest beyond this...lumps of hills carved
undulating in the distant from glacials..where the
moon emerges past dusk..that magic light..
and now the little lamps on black poles throwing
their designer light....an ode to the old gas lamps
..the snow drifting down between the tall brick
rooflines on the second story between units..
the moon behind the dim lit clouds...few lights
on for the midnight morning dwellers within.
the cars and trucks glittering and sketched with
thick black outlines....draped in shades of night..
the witching hour...work slow..my life unravelling
as i get it under control..my addictions..
and my writing diving deep into the lairs where i
find the most creative seduction from the muses
from the city wild...the barren isolation of being
creative with a voice..no real crowd here to hear
it...and so it is i come to neoland ..the only refuge
when all are sleeping or gathered in their worlds
of the internet beyond the widths of the modern
basement refuge upstairs...

like the night out there..a dreamland of almost
unbelieving conditions.....a slow smoke..the
bright sparks trailing off...the flakes luridly making
their way twisting in their pathes...

thank you