Orchestra

Streetlights make a grid,
orange and dim,
across my wall.
Outside
construction men
work on telephone polls-
symphonic-
I am at a symphony.
Oxygen bursts from the
West wind,
now carbon dioxide
out my lungs
Silence,
only if you listen.

 

(1/4/11)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s