10-12-2010 Excerpt from Estranged Union
Tonight the one-legged cricket sings; it sings
To me - here, at twelve fifteen in the morning
It sings, resonating through the chemical
Smell of Ford Sterling Axle, through blackened grease,
To me - here, at twelve fifteen in the morning
It sings, resonating through the chemical
Smell of Ford Sterling Axle, through blackened grease,
Stagnation, the glow of cigarettes outside
This cricket turning ever in a circle
Like these concentric machines who live and die,
Who wrench and rust beneath this Michigan rain.
Published by J L Carey Jr
J L Carey Jr, Author of the book Turning Pages, is a writer and an artist living in Michigan with his wife and three children. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from National University and a BA in Englis... View profile
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9 Comments
Post a CommentAmong the rust and grease and rain, the cricket sings -- just like the poet!
I enjoyed this piece and the image.
A helluva powerful analogous image to begin with, Jeff.
Amazing, and fits my nood today.
Very raw and wonderful!
Melancholy frustration.
Unique and interesting. Ditto CJP's comment!
I appreciate your bridge from the self to the wretched society via nature ;-)
The analogy...the writing...it's all excellent.