l o o s eleaf by Brynn Dizack=-it stopped raining so she went out with too many looseleaf pages stuffed into a spiral notebook folding over / collapsing into each other & as she stepped across the dotted yellow lines & shifted the weight of her books from her hip to her chest / they became liquid & slippery, littering out in one solid mass and exploding into a fierce 8 1/2" x 11' snowstorm ///:: and she , & she looked back & the light changed & thousands of tiny, indescribeable tires had never cared less / gluing page after page to the sticky wet street & spitting up hissing clouds of mist in their wake / her scarf frozen in the swirl as she whipped around / and when the sky is a dirty offwhite like this she can't function beyond smoking & staring & feeling the trains rumble under the concrete / / unfamiliar like staring at the back of someone else's head & the tires smear the trillion tiny puddles into the air & they fall again & recollect in all the same potholes and roadsides & the water just gets dirtier and dirtier and dirtier && my fingers were cold branches scratching down to nubs on the window & i'm looking up and i'm looking out & suddenly that forehead is mysteriously cold and begins to ache like the rest of it & everything else still hanging overhead twisting and contracting with every breath
& what if this is it if this is my whole life coming undone and slipping away into the streets with the cold whirlwind races && that's just like the movies && that's what i always wanted , wasn't it
& the light goes red &
i just walk away.
11/17/2003 Author's Note: icanticanticant i need the crook in your neck more than anything i cant wait these fortysix days
Posted on 11/18/2003 Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Laura Doom on 11/18/03 at 07:57 PM A lot of effort into formatting this, with worthwhile results.
You can, you can :>]
One thought - perhaps 'direction=right' would give an impression of 'going' rather than 'coming'? |
Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 11/19/03 at 01:51 PM && my fingers were cold branches scratching down to nubs ......a furious pace, a race with page and rage, && and i am breathless |
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 11/19/03 at 05:29 PM Captivating read. I especially like this image: 8 1/2" x 11' snowstorm. |
Posted by Beth K Hannah on 12/26/03 at 01:28 AM the imagery is great. The way you formatted it added something great to it. |
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