Yesterday a man with a gas-powered steel-brushed broom
cleaned the slab of concrete that we call our parking lot.
The trees spent the evening weeping over the noise,
and now a fresh accumulation of blossoms
makes the raw power of machinery seem petty.
I, however, will aim to use my blender symbolically.
I have an itch to explore the tension
between metal and mush,
between blossom and brutality,
between garden and city.
Osterizer has answered the call.
cool image.
come and write some poetry with us on tweetspeak on tuesday night.
that would be the 25th.
flesh made into words…
starts at 9:30 eastern time.
here
http://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/
twitter poetry jam.