So impossibly far away
Your voice full of oranges
And salt spray
The things you say do not seem real
Here as this leaden sky stalls above us
splatters of rain smashing on the car roof
Rt. 6 west towards Hartford
The rust just beginning to show
On the tips of the Pin Oak branches
The car flying above the trees
Guernsey and Holsteins
In the air about us
Passing a valley farm lip-synched
I thinking how I know
that's where I would live
With my elemental collectibles
Deliberate with the river S curving
Back in on itself
Giving myself time
To curve back on myself
Multiplying everything
I have done in my life
Dividing out the things that mattered
And setting them free
In little newspaper boats
Each outfitted
With it's own candle
I would sit at night
Amid a thousand fireflies
Counting the heifers as they bellowed
Amid my boats
Thinking of how you sounded so tired
In the land of plenty
Sea otters basking in a sun
That never stops shining
-Peter Ciccariello
ARTIST'S BLOG - http://invisiblenotes.blogspot.com/
PHOTOGRAPHS - http://uncommonvision.blogspot.com/
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