The death of a moon cowboy

I am a somewhat-youth with ideas and thoughts and too many dreams that sometimes overflow as these little dribblings from my fingertips. I guess you can try to collect and capture them.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

The day after the storm

Driving a narrow highway
all coated in thick ice,
twinkling under the morning sun
like hundreds of stars.

Then the snowbanks
made soundless white loops
as if viewed from a carousel--
whirled through sunlight
and then shadow, again and
again, like so many days
setting into night.
Halved sunflower seeds
hovered within reach
of our splayed fingers
for a few immortal moments, then

sheetmetal crunched,
quarter panels
a shatter of glass sprayed and eclipsed
the pavement stars.
A mosaic
of manufactured
colors spread uneven
across the manufactured ground.