Jill, your snaps don't always grab me... but this one does.
Especially that last stanza! I can hear the tone of voice -
a kind of vague desperation.
Janet
> Sorry I'm late
>
> The snow was in the sun
> There was a prick in garden
> A truck jack-knifed the particulars
> There was a smell of old gas
> The crows lost
> As did the roses and all that blood we spilled for love
> That prick in the garden
>
> Photographers were lighting bombs
> The olive tree fell just as we were getting started
> We forgot to fill out the form
> Celebrity drug disasters were drifting in our channel
> My watch shows tomorrow's date
> The disk shattered
> There's that smell again
> It's a form of expediency, or is it complexity?
>
> I tried to inform the authorities
>
> If I could find my name and my reason
> If the birds would stop drifting like that
> If someone would lend a hand at the entrance
> I'd be less nervous saying this
> My throat would work with my head and hands
>
>
> Jill Jones
> Sydney 10 August 2005
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Janet Jackson <[log in to unmask]>
Poems at Proximity:
http://www.arach.net.au/~huxtable/janet/proximity.html
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