09 September 2012

After Dark

crickets fiddling after dark
or, I guess that’s what
they are
the unremitting alarms
of ten thousand cartoon cars

2 comments:

  1. oh AWESOME metaphor! So genius. And lighthearted. A combination you don't come by often. Seems profundity is inextricably linked to sadness, but this is smart and light.

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    Replies
    1. Amber,
      You are too kind. Thanks again for your generous reading, and your encouraging comment. Took me awhile to realize I needed to break "they are" onto a line by itself, so that it (more obviously?) both completed line 2 (via meter) and is stolen away to start line 4. Small thing perhaps, but it is a gentle gesture for the reader to "start over" in the middle of the tiny poem - via their own fiddling.
      Peace,
      B.R.

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