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Cold Streets

Walking home down brick alleys, I'd click my broken heels off to feel bare feet on fall's cold streets. Sneaking home to an apartment I lived in alone. I'd watch the patterned colors of row homes pass. Greys, blues, and tans sadly rolling down the hillside in long stacks. Sitting domino's on curved ramps, just one push and they could all collapse

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 7/18/2009 2:33:00 PM
I like the sprung rhythm of this poem and the way that words relate back to each other in sound, that give suggestive meaning rather than actual. The piece also moves around a lot, emotionwise. It has an unsettling start then weaves in and out of feeling until it seems to settle on acceptance, with that last line that almost seems throwaway. It is good to read something that can take the reader on a journey and yet this is managed with 14 lines (a sonnet?).
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