Monday, May 5, 2008

Jeffrey Woodward: EVENING IN THE PLAZA

Cobblestone of which former century, red again with the last rays of the sun; elongated shadow of a sign illegible in silhouette or that of an attenuated and hushed passerby; a mind intent, in the face of horror vacui, upon leaving no nook unfilled while racing vainly to make several discrete phenomena cohere. A tremor of baleful leaves, perhaps, or a tardy pigeon come to roost….
the water comes back
to itself with a sound ─
a plaza’s fountain

by Jeffrey Woodward
Detroit, Michigan
first published in bottle rockets 18, Feb. 2008

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