Poem: Amuck


fair haven.JPG


A street. Rain. A town
mostly abandoned,
death by attrition,
hard fought,
a slice of America,
somewhat pitted,
but without an iota of surrender,
the streets wet with rain,
never sure
if they are God’s tears,
or new life, wet and refreshing.

Some of both perhaps.
Things are rarely as simple
as we would like,
each story filled
with hidden gems and monsters
waiting to spring,
a fairy tale
gone amuck.

About this poem

Things, good and bad, are never as simple as they seem. Every story has twelve stories underneath it, like tangled roots under the grass.

The picture was taken in Fair Haven, Vermont.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s